Until It Sleeps
by Maddie Rose
Summary: When the last egg hatches for a warrior of the Varden, Murtagh is sent after the Rider...to discover that there may be a chance for salvation after all. His fate lies with Ashen, a girl who doesn't realise how important she really is. Murtagh/OC
1. It's Never Easy

**CHAPTER ONE: It's Never Easy**

**A/N: Okay, this is set after Brisingr. This is my first go at an Inheritance Cycle fanfic. Sorry if it's a little slow to begin with. There will probably be some flashbacks to the past. Murtagh will be in the next chapter.**

_It's never easy to be chosen, _

_Never easy to be called._

_Standing on the front line_

_When the bombs start to fall._

_- Who Am I Living For, Katy Perry_

"Come on, Ashen, lunge!" Tristan called, cupping his hands around his mouth to make sure his sister heard him.

Ashen turned, planting her free hand on her hip as she glared at her older brother. Tristan was grinning across at her. She rolled her eyes and jerked her sword towards Eragon.

"If it's so easy, dear brother, why don't you come and have a go?"

Tristan just folded his arms and sighed heavily and Ashen took that as meaning that he wouldn't. With a satisfied smirk, she turned back to face her opponent – only to realize that Eragon had Brisingr pressed to her collarbone. There was the hint of a smile on his weary face.

"Never turn your back on your opponent," he chastised, "He won't be as kind as I am."

Ashen playfully punched Eragon in the shoulder. She wouldn't try and hit him even if she really was mad, because she'd probably break her knuckles. Besides, Eragon was much stronger than her. He was even stronger than Tristan.

Eragon laughed. It was good seeing him looking…well, free. Things were so stressful for Eragon these days. It must be so hard for him, being only sixteen years old and bearing such a heavy burden. Ashen would hate to be a Dragon Rider.

"I think that's probably enough for today," Eragon sighed, sheathing his sword and inclining his head to the siblings. "Ashen. Tristan. I'm not sure when I'll next get the chance to duel you, Ashen, but I look forward to it."

Ashen's face cracked into a grin. "As do I. Shadeslayer."

Eragon walked off and Ashen watched him go. There was a mischievous glint in Tristan's eyes as he approached his younger sister, ruffling her hair affectionately as only an older brother would. She pushed him away.

"I think someone fancies the Varden's young Rider."

Ashen frowned tersely. She hated it when Tristan teased her about such matters. Of course it was practically his duty as an older brother, but she still found it thoroughly irritating. She glowered at him without a hint of embarrassment.

"Don't be a fool, Tristan. You know well that Eragon and I are only friends."

Tristan raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure? Because if you are interested in him, I have no doubt that he would be attracted to you. You are the same age. You're clever and pretty."

Ashen ducked her head. Now she was embarrassed. Of course, Tristan was attempting to demonstrate the brotherly talk about why the young men should want to take an interest in her. Ashen knew that she was intelligent, that she could fight with a sword as well as any man, that her golden blonde hair and sapphire blue eyes were what most people considered beautiful.

"Why are we talking about me?" Ashen asked slyly, nudging Tristan, "You're two years my elder. Shouldn't you have found yourself a wife by now?"

Tristan was handsome like Ashen was beautiful. Many of the girls in the Varden took an interest in him, giggling whenever he was around, whispering behind their hands. Tristan knew this, but the problem was that he didn't seem to care.

"You're changing the subject," Tristan warned, but he said nothing more on the topic.

Ashen sighed wistfully as she watched soldiers practising just as she had been. Archers, like Tristan, were a little across and firing at targets. Everyone was on the brink of war and Ashen knew they must all be tense.

"I miss him."

Tristan had no doubt that Ashen was talking about Colton. He was their oldest brother and he would be twenty-one years old by now. Except he wasn't, because he'd been killed by the Shade Durza when Galbatorix had learned that he'd been assisting Arya with ferrying Saphira's egg. Colton had looked a lot like Ashen. All three of them had the same eyes – the only thing different about them was that Tristan had dark hair while his brother and sister were blonde. The three of them had been practically inseparable…then Durza had taken all of that away.

Ashen tried not to focus on that. It had been months since Eragon had killed Durza. There was nothing she could do to get Colton back, no matter how much she might miss her oldest brother.

Everyone had known Colton. He'd been charming and charismatic, very handsome. Tristan missed their heroic older brother as well. Rumour had it that he'd died under torture, while swearing he would never tell the Shade anything about the egg. It sounded like it was true. Colton had been very brave.

"So do I," Tristan muttered.

The three siblings had come to the Varden ten years ago, almost to the day. Their village had been burned by Galbatorix's soldiers and eleven-year-old Colton had found the Varden along with his younger brother and sister. They were practically like family to most members of the Varden. Ashen especially got along with Nasuada, who was only a year older than herself.

Colton's death had been painful for Ashen, but that hadn't been the only thing. Almost a year ago, when she'd still been fifteen, she'd met Murtagh. He was enigmatic, darkly handsome and bitter and she'd instantly been attracted to him. He was three years her senior, even older than Tristan…who had immediately sensed her attraction to the young man and warned her away.

Despite her brother's misgivings, Ashen and Murtagh had become friends, Murtagh most likely unaware of Ashen's infatuation with him…which she now found childish. Especially because he'd betrayed them and was now Galbatorix's right-hand man.

She thought of herself as stupid because of the fact that she'd taken to him. Since then, she hadn't wanted to open her heart to anyone. Ashen turned her mind from the matter. Thinking about Murtagh hurt too much now.

"Tristan."

Both brother and sister turned to see Nasuada walking towards them. Tristan flushed and cleared his throat as she approached and Ashen restrained a wicked grin. Tristan had a soft spot for Nasuada which he wouldn't acknowledge to anyone, not even Ashen.

"Hello, Ashen." Nasuada spared the girl a brief smile, before she turned her attention on Tristan, seemingly oblivious to his coyness. There was a grim expression on her face and Ashen's heart sank as she knew the news couldn't be good. "I need to talk with you in private, Tristan. It's a matter of utmost importance."

Tristan flashed Ashen an apologetic look. She felt a little put-out as he walked off with Nasuada, but she reminded herself that it was business. Ashen glanced up at the darkening sky, thinking of Colton and Murtagh and all of it.

_This war is far from over._

**PARAGRAPH**

"Excuse me?" Tristan demanded, his dark blue eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and fear. Normally he wasn't so outspoken, especially towards Nasuada, the leader of the Varden…but this wasn't a normal situation. What she had asked him to do wasn't only suicide, but it brought up painful memories of the past. "No. Someone else can do it. I won't."

Nasuada sighed heavily, tapping her nails on her chair. She watched Tristan, wishing she could do as he wanted. But the problem was, Tristan was one of the best. He was stealthy and he wouldn't be caught.

"I'm sorry, Tristan. It has to be you. You'll have a guard with you, of course."

Tristan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What am I supposed to tell my sister? She couldn't take losing another brother, Nasuada."

Nasuada squeezed her eyes shut. Colton had been like a brother to her as well. How could anyone who had known him forget? He'd impacted on everyone's lives. She knew that Ashen couldn't lose Tristan as well.

"We need that egg." Her voice lowered until it was little more than a whisper. "If it hatches for one of Galbatorix's people, we won't survive. We can't have the last Rider controlled by him. We wouldn't survive."

Tristan knew that and he could understand Nasuada's desperation. But stealing the green egg…it was definitely a suicide mission. Colton had only been associated with the egg and he'd been brutally murdered. If Galbatorix discovered that Tristan had taken the egg…he didn't want to think about it.

"You won't be the actual thief," Nasuada assured him, "I've already sent someone for that particular part of the mission. You'll just be taking the egg from him."

If this was meant to placate Tristan, then it wasn't working. His brows knitted into a concentrated frown as he observed Nasuada. He had nothing but the utmost respect for the young Varden leader, but he didn't agree with what she was asking of him.

Nasuada seemed to be deep in thought. "Perhaps it's wisest if Ashen accompanies you."

Tristan shook his head fervently. Danger to himself he could stand, but not his little sister.

"No."

Nasuada raised her eyebrows. "Consider that you'd both be safer watching each other's backs, Tristan. Your sister is an asset to the Varden, as are you."

Tristan chose not to say that they were expendable assets. He didn't want to anger Nasuada. He could also hear the truth ringing in what she said. What if there was an attack on the Varden while he was gone? He'd much prefer his sister by his side, where at least he could keep her safe.

"Fine," he grumbled, inclining his head stiffly to the Varden leader, "Lady Nasuada."

**PARAGRAPH**

Ashen was lying on her back counting the stars. She would have slept, but she was too worried about her brother. What had Nasuada wanted of him? Tristan seemed surprised when he found Ashen lying out on the balcony with her hair streaming out around her and her face tilted towards the night sky.

"What are you doing?" he asked her.

Ashen sat up straight and jumped to her feet, moving towards her brother. Tristan was tense as she approached him and Ashen frowned at the hard light in her older brother's eyes. This definitely wasn't like Tristan.

"Tristan, what's the matter?"

He brushed past her, refusing to look her in the eyes. Ashen was overcome by a flash of hurt and her hands clenched into fists. Tristan whipped around to face her, clearly sensing that she was agitated. Out of the two of them, Ashen was the firebrand.

"We've been sent to claim the last egg."

There was no procrastination and Ashen flinched as if he'd slapped her across the face. She couldn't believe this. After Colton's death, she thought Nasuada would have been more compassionate…except she did realize that the leader of the Varden probably had no other choice.

"What?" Ashen's voice was tiny. "But…after Colton…"

"Grow up, Ashen," snapped Tristan, his concern turning him against her, "You're not a little girl anymore. Someone has to do it. If Nasuada has faith in you, the rest of the Varden does as well."

Ashen felt slightly sick. Suddenly, she could understand the responsibility that Eragon shouldered. She and her brother had been asked to accomplish the impossible. She noticed Tristan moving for his bow and arrow.

"Where are you going?" she demanded, suddenly overcome by a wave of panic.

He threw her a disbelieving glance. "We're leaving, Ashen. Both of us, right now, along with a guard. The sooner this is accomplished, the better. The egg must be free from Galbatorix, or else…"

Ashen gulped, knowing exactly what her brother was thinking. She didn't want to reminisce on the past – it was too painful. But she didn't have a choice.

"Or else the new Rider will become like Murtagh and we will be doomed."

Ashen understood the importance of their mission when they were seen off by Eragon, Saphira, Arya and Nasuada. Garbed in armour and boy's clothing, she felt more like a soldier than ever. Her grip didn't leave the hilt of her sword.

"I think you all understand the danger," Arya glanced over at Ashen, Tristan and three soldiers that accompanied them. "You will be hunted. Galbatorix may even send Murtagh after you to reclaim the egg. What matters is that you must return to the Varden in all haste."

Tristan gulped and inclined his head. He was the leader of the expedition, despite the fact that the three soldiers were older than him by at least five years. Ashen felt the urge to embrace her friends, but knew that she must be proper now. She held her head high as she mounted her horse. She felt dread at knowing that Murtagh might come after them, but she was prepared. She'd been with the Varden since she'd been six.

Saphira looked at Ashen and Tristan and projected her thoughts to the entire company.

_Should you encounter danger, I don't doubt that Nasuada would allow Eragon and I to deal with Murtagh and Thorn if it means the last egg can be delivered safely._

Nasuada looked unpleasantly astonished, but she regained control of herself immediately and nodded slowly. Eragon was smiling slightly.

"Of course."

Ashen had to summon upon all her courage. If only she was as brave as Colton. He'd defied Durza until he'd died. Ashen thought she'd probably break under torture. It was not a comforting thought. She forced a smile as she faced her comrades.

"We should probably get going then," Tristan muttered, sounding as reluctant as Ashen felt. As the five horses disappeared in the darkness, Ashen twisted in her saddle to look behind her. At this speed, they would be out of Surda in no time. From then on…they would be in Imperial territory.


	2. Hunt You Down

**CHAPTER TWO: Hunt You Down**

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews so far! I have also made a trailer. Check out my profile for more details.**

_Coz all of this is all that I can take_

_And you could never understand the demons that I face_

_So go ahead and bat your eyes and lie right to the world_

_For everything you are, you're just a little girl_

_- Just A Little Girl, Trading Yesterday_

Galbatorix couldn't suppress his anger. He'd already killed several soldiers in his wrath, arrested a handful of servants and tortured three or four courtiers. The green egg had been stolen from him. He thought it had been protected…but no. The bumbling idiots who served him were clearly incompetent. Even now, the egg could be anywhere…perhaps in the Varden's possession. He'd already lost one egg and he wouldn't lose another.

Murtagh didn't relish seeing Galbatorix when the king was in such a foul mood, but it wasn't like he had any choice. He entered the throne room and noticed that Galbatorix – he was accompanied by several soldiers, a few courtiers and one of his pet magicians, a young man in his early twenties by the name of Zander.

Murtagh already knew Zander all too well. When he'd been kidnapped by the Twins and practically dragged into Uru'baen, it had been Zander that Galbatorix had assigned to torture him. Just seeing the magician brought back unpleasant memories. Zander offered Murtagh a smirk as he entered the throne room.

"I want that egg back," Galbatorix seethed, turning his livid gaze upon Murtagh, "Get Thorn and hunt them down. Find the egg and bring it back. If you can bring me the thief alive, then do so. I would much like to kill them myself."

Murtagh had no doubt that it was a member of the Varden who had stolen the last egg. He had mixed emotions about this. Hopefully it was someone he didn't know well, so it wouldn't feel like he was betraying them. Galbatorix looked on the verge of a violent rampage, so Murtagh clenched his jaw and inclined his head, wanting to get out of the throne room as soon as possible.

Zander's green eyes sparkled with glee at Murtagh's discomfort. Ever since Murtagh had been brought to Uru'baen, the two had clashed. After Zander had tortured him, Murtagh had done everything in his power to make Zander uncomfortable…but he couldn't go too far, because Zander was powerful and far too valuable to Galbatorix. Otherwise, Murtagh would have already killed him.

_Thorn. We have work to do._

Murtagh stalked out of the throne room, feeling a black mood settling over him. He wished the fugitives could get the egg to the Varden. He didn't want Galbatorix to win this war. The only problem was, Murtagh's crimes were great. He had killed Oromis. He had tried to destroy the Varden, although none of this had been done of his own volition.

_I pity the poor souls that we hunt tonight. _Thorn's opinion was much the same as Murtagh's.

_Nothing can save them now, _Murtagh confessed with chagrin, _Not even Eragon._

**PARAGRAPH**

Tristan and Ashen fled as fast as they could, fled back towards the Varden. Tristan thought it was best if the egg was in Ashen's possession. She was a girl and therefore less subject to the suspicion of anyone hunting them. The three soldiers that had accompanied them were looking incredibly nervous. It didn't help matters, Ashen thought begrudgingly. It only made her feel afraid.

There was a roar from the star-spangled sky and Ashen looked up to see a dragon passing overhead. It was hard to tell what colour through the darkness, but by the shape she highly doubted it was Saphira. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach as she grabbed her sword and pulled it from its sheath as she continued to ride hard.

Tristan cursed under his breath as he seized his bow and nocked an arrow. He knew they didn't stand a chance. The dragon landed a few metres in front of them and Tristan instinctively shot an arrow at the dragon. He gripped the reins and pulled his horse sharp left, motioning for Ashen and the others to follow.

Ashen felt on the verge of screaming. They were all going to die. Fighting down her panic, she followed her brother as he led his horse through the sparse scattering of trees and shrubs in the hope of finding some kind of safety. Someone shouted something in the ancient language. Ashen whipped around to see the soldier bringing up the rear fall off his horse, dead. His horse screamed in fear and galloped in the other direction.

"Tristan!" she cried.

Her brother twisted dangerously in his saddle, his eyes widening as he watched the red dragon's fire incinerate another of the soldiers. Ashen was filled with fear, knowing that they were indeed being hunted by Murtagh. Neither she nor her brother were magicians. She was a warrior, but she knew she was nothing in comparison with Murtagh. No matter what she did, he would overpower and most likely kill her.

"_Letta._"

Ashen's horse jerked to a halt so fast that she toppled over the side. Terrified that the egg she carried would break, she landed heavily on her arm. Something snapped and then Ashen was crying out in pain, not doubting for a moment that her arm was broken. Her vision blurred and then came back into focus. When it did, she realized that someone stood over her.

A dark-haired, handsome man in black. Well, more of a boy really. Ashen gasped as she recognized him immediately.

"Murtagh."

There was no revulsion in the way she said his name. Murtagh tilted his head to the side and observed the girl, injured and afraid. He remembered her now – Ashen. They had been good friends, once upon a time. But that friendship had been obliterated when he'd been forced to serve Galbatorix. It hadn't only been friendship, Murtagh ruminated, there had been something more…

_Focus on your task, Murtagh._

Murtagh frowned. Thorn was right, of course. Ashen stared up at him and suddenly her eyes narrowed and her expression hardened. He knelt down beside her and she attempted to push herself backwards, grimacing at the pain in her arm.

"I will heal your arm if you tell me where the egg is. Your brother Tristan has it, doesn't he?"

Ashen's blue eyes flashed with fear. "I'll never tell you."

Murtagh's eyebrows met in a sharp V. "You don't want to do this, Ashen. Don't make me hurt you."

"Then don't!" snapped Ashen, finally clambering to her feet. There was something about the way she held herself – it wasn't that her arm was broken, it was something else…Murtagh couldn't quite pinpoint what.

Thorn knew. _She has the egg._

Murtagh knew he could not fail. If he did…Galbatorix would have Zander torture him into madness. He didn't fear pain, he feared the unknown. He gripped Ashen's uninjured arm and drew her to him.

"Give me the egg."

She stamped hard on his foot. "Never."

Murtagh's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to say something, except someone else spoke first.

"Let my sister go."

Tristan stood only a few feet away, his bow stretched taut and an arrow pointed directly at Murtagh's head. The young Rider turned to throw his dragon an irritated glance.

_What are you doing? How did he manage to sneak up on me?_

_I don't know, _Thorn sounded surprised, _He's stealthy. I didn't see him coming._

Murtagh was torn for a moment, before he released Ashen. She might be confused, but there was no mercy in Tristan's eyes. His older brother Colton had been tortured to death by Durza, Murtagh remembered. He wouldn't see his sister meet a similar fate.

_Murtagh!_

Thorn's exclamation caught Murtagh off-guard. He whirled around – just as Ashen hit him over the head with the hilt of her sword and his world swirled into blackness.

**PARAGRAPH**

_Durza's eyes glowed like hot red coals above Colton. He struggled against his bonds, but there was nothing he could do. The Shade had restrained him using magic and straps. Even when Colton moved slightly, everything hurt. His head throbbed and it felt like he was on fire._

"_I tire of your little game, boy," the Shade sounded impatient, "Where is the egg now?"_

_Colton didn't say anything, just like he'd been doing for…how long now? Days? Weeks? Months? He knew he hadn't been the only captured by Durza. He'd heard a woman's screams a couple of cells down. Who was she? Colton pitied her, more than he pitied himself. Durza loomed over him, his pale pointed teeth bared in a savage smile._

"_You forget that I have been inside your head. How would you like it if I dragged your brother in here, had him beaten in front of you? Would that convince you to loosen your tongue?"_

_Colton tried not to think of Tristan. He was only seventeen. The boy wouldn't last at all in Gil'ead. And if the Shade brought him here…Colton wouldn't survive watching him tortured. He continued to keep his mouth shut, averting his eyes. He didn't want to give Durza the satisfaction of hearing him give in._

"_Or what about your pretty little sister?" Durza's tone made Colton's skin crawl, "There are a lot of lonely soldiers who serve here. They're a long way from their families. I don't doubt that they wouldn't object if I gave her to them…"_

_No. Not Ashen. She was far too young to face that sort of horror. Even younger than Tristan. No, not his baby sister…_

"_You stay away from them," Colton croaked, his sapphire blue eyes flicking up to meet Durza's maroon ones._

_The Shade smiled, glad at having elicited a reaction. Unlike the elf courier Arya, Galbatorix had deemed Colton to be…disposable. Durza didn't have to worry about healing him when he'd gone too far. Colton would die in this cell, and they both knew it._

**PARAGRAPH**

"Why didn't you kill him?" Tristan demanded as they reached the Varden and he helped her down off her horse. They were the only survivors of the expedition. Ashen's heart felt heavy. After Murtagh had been knocked unconscious, she and Tristan had escaped. They'd run and they'd hid, but they'd eventually managed to reach Surda once more, and that was what mattered.

"I'm sorry," snapped Ashen, not sounding sorry at all, "I'm not a murderer, Tristan."

Tristan sighed and took the egg from his sister as they moved towards the Varden. A group of people were rushing towards the pair of them, grim expressions on their faces. Nasuada saw the egg in Tristan's hands and her eyes flared with hope.

Eragon, on the other hand, noticed the odd angle of Ashen's arm. His eyes widened and he moved towards her, gripping her arm and muttering, "_Waise heill._"

Ashen smiled gratefully at him as her bone slotted back into its proper place. Saphira glanced at the siblings and seemed to know immediately what had happened.

_Murtagh and Thorn attacked you._

Tristan nodded, his eyes hardening at the memory. Eragon glanced at Ashen's arm with shock in his eyes. He knew Murtagh was ruthless, but he had never known his brother to be deliberately cruel.

"He broke your arm?"

Ashen shook her head vigorously. "No. I…my horse panicked and I fell off onto my arm. I didn't want the egg to shatter."

Eragon smiled knowingly, glancing at Saphira. "Dragon eggs are a little harder to break than that."

Ashen grimaced. "Shame my arm wasn't."

Eragon couldn't help but laugh a little at that. Tristan shot Ashen an unimpressed look. She rolled her eyes. Tristan was sometimes more overprotective than Ashen would like. She was old enough to take care of herself now.

"How did you manage to get away from him?"

Ashen smiled smugly. "The hilt of my sword is just as handy as the blade, it would seem."

Tristan and Eragon were still glancing at Ashen as though she was still injured. She gave her brother a harsh look. Just because they'd lost their brother, it didn't mean he needed to protect her. Ever since Colton had died, Tristan had fought with anyone who practically looked at Ashen the wrong way.

"May I take the egg?" It wasn't really a question, but Tristan held out the egg to Arya. If anyone could protect the green dragon egg, it was the elf princess. She examined it carefully, before walking away with it. Nasuada turned to watch her.

"Arya will find a safe place for the egg here before it will be transported to Islanzadi in Du Weldenvarden. It will be protected there."

Tristan nodded and then glanced over at his sister. Ashen looked pale and tired. He moved across and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"You are weary, sister. You must rest."

"No." Ashen shook her head and jerked out of her brother's grasp. "I…I'm fine."

In honesty, seeing Murtagh had shaken her. He had shown mercy on her, offered to help her if she'd just give him what he'd wanted. Whatever she'd expected, it hadn't been that. Murtagh was not evil. She had seen that for herself. He was a tortured, conflicted person and she pitied him.

Tristan wouldn't understand. Since Colton had died, Tristan had changed. He thought everyone associated with the Empire deserved to be killed. Ashen had once agreed with him. She'd been even more full of vengeance than her brother. But now…Murtagh had changed her opinion. Now, Ashen wasn't sure what to think.

**PARAGRAPH**

Murtagh had been tortured for his failure. With the young Rider still recovering from what he'd endured, Zander came to Galbatorix. Zander was the most powerful person other than Galbatorix and Murtagh. He was best at infiltrating people's minds.

That was how Galbatorix had managed to discover Murtagh's true name. No matter how strong the barriers surrounding Murtagh's mind, Zander had broken through. He hadn't managed to discover much before Murtagh had forced him out – but he had found Murtagh and Thorn's true names.

The king looked down upon his most loyal magician. Zander was a young man, only around twenty-two or twenty-three. His hair was so light blond that it was almost white and his eyes were a deep green. He looked grim as he approached the king.

"He lost the egg to the Varden, your majesty. He killed the soldiers that were with the thieves. I believe the boy's name was Tristan Reynaldsson and the girl was his sister."

Galbatorix remembered another Reynaldsson…Colton, probably older than Tristan. He had been a thief as well. Obviously, it ran in the family. The king gritted his teeth, incensed.

"I need that egg found, Zander. See if you can locate it. When you do, inform me."

Zander inclined his head. He wasn't like that Rider slime, Murtagh Morzansson. When the king gave Zander a duty, the young magician would follow his instructions to the letter. The egg _would_ be found.


	3. Of Riders

**CHAPTER THREE: Of Riders**

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed so far! I can promise you that this isn't going to be your typical Murtagh/OC story.**

"_You're not alone, together we stand_

_I'll be by your side, you know I'll take your hand._

_When it gets cold, and it feels like the end_

_There's no place to go, you know I won't give in."_

_- Keep Holding On, Avril Lavigne_

**PARAGRAPH**

_The Shade whirled around to see the interruption – a small soldier. A helmet covered the boy's face, but by his stature alone, Durza knew that he must have been very young. He gripped his sword tightly in armoured hands and there was something about his posture that indicated he wasn't about to back down. Durza struck out, his sword slamming against the boy's with jarring force. The boy yelled in pain and stumbled backwards. It wouldn't be a surprise if his arm was broken._

_Durza expected him to turn and run. So it was a shock to him when the boy roared in anger and charged at him once more. The Shade used his fist and slammed it in the side of the boy's head. He staggered backwards, wheeling, and his helmet fell to the ground…and Durza was astonished once more._

_It was the long, golden blonde hair that was his first indicator. When he looked upon the soldier's face, he knew for certain. No boy this, but a girl of around fifteen years old, a vengeful fire burning in her dark eyes. She bared her teeth at the Shade and he realised why she was vaguely familiar. He'd seen her before when he'd broken into Colton's mind._

_Ashen._

"_You killed my brother," she spat at him, her tone one of utmost loathing._

"_I did," Durza confessed, "You're next."_

_Stupid little girl. She really thought she could fight him? Even most elves were not as strong as Durza and now he was hounded by this child. He wasn't supposed to be here. He was meant to find Eragon and capture him. Overcome by a wave of impatience, Durza lunged, his sword slashing down Ashen's cheek. She cried out in pain and clapped a hand to her face as the blood started to well there._

_He lifted his sword and made to strike her again, this time to kill, but an arrow hit him in the arm and he dropped it quickly. Ashen whirled around, expecting to see Tristan…instead she found herself looking upon Murtagh. He was glaring at Durza as Ashen ran towards him, extremely grateful for the interruption._

"_Thank you," she said, offering him a smile, "You saved my life."_

_Durza had already turned away and was walking in the opposite direction, cutting down Varden soldiers as he went. Clearly, Ashen was of little interest to him. Murtagh lowered his bow, watching the Shade go._

"_He's the one that killed your brother?"_

_Ashen gulped and nodded, the memory of Colton's death too painful. She hadn't seen it with her own eyes, yet the details had been enough to reduce even Tristan to tears. How she wanted to drive her sword through Durza's heart…but she couldn't. Because he would tear her apart._

**PARAGRAPH**

Ashen's eyes fluttered open. Everything was quiet and judging by the darkness, it was still night. Of course, this wasn't new to Ashen – she had trouble sleeping at night. She had ever since Colton's death, but now that she and Tristan had stolen a dragon egg it was worse. Ashen was afraid that she'd be dragged out into the night, kicking and screaming…

She shuddered. It wasn't a pleasant though, especially when it was still dark. Things seemed less frightening in the light of day. Out on the balcony, Tristan turned and offered her a rueful smile.

"Can't sleep either?"

It had only been a few days since they'd stolen the dragon egg. Neither Ashen nor Tristan could let go of their fear that the Empire would hunt them down and reclaim the egg. The sooner Arya took it to Du Weldenvarden, the happier they'd be.

Ashen nodded, clambering out of bed and walking over to join her brother at the balcony. Down below, Eragon was pacing almost agitatedly. Ashen couldn't quite suppress a smile. So they were all insomniacs, then. All of them feeling that this was just the calm before the storm.

"I'd very much like to see the egg again." Tristan sounded wistful. "It's just…it's so beautiful. Such a lovely emerald green."

There was a hint of something a bit like greed in her brother's voice. Ashen eyed him suspiciously. He seemed to realise and turned to offer his younger sister a slight smile as he ruffled her hair affectionately.

"I think it likely you'll turn out to be the next Rider." There was no jealousy in his voice; clearly being a Rider didn't appeal to him any more than it did to Ashen. She shook her head slowly.

"Very funny, Tristan."

Her older brother's expression was deadly serious and Ashen was forced to look away. What if she really was the next Rider? She knew the dangers she'd face. She'd be Eragon's ally, Murtagh's enemy. The green egg was male. Galbatorix would have no need of her. If she stood against him, she'd be killed.

"I really hope not."

"I know where it is," Tristan said almost eagerly, "We should go and see it…just one last time, before it's taken to Du Weldenvarden…"

Ashen shook her head. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Tristan."

Tristan frowned almost petulantly. "Come on, Ash. I've never really had a good look at it before. We stole it. I think we're entitled to take a look at it."

Ashen gnawed at her lip. She didn't know why her brother was so interested in the egg. After having carried it all the way from Uru'baen, Ashen didn't think she ever wanted to see it again, especially knowing what trouble it brought with it.

"Aye."

They stole down the corridors. The egg was under guard by Du Vrangr Gata at all times. The two magicians standing guard outside the room stood to attention when they heard footsteps, but like most members of the Varden, they knew Tristan and Ashen.

"What are you two doing here?" The older one, named Derrick, sounded more relieved than anything. "How may I help you?"

Tristan glanced at Ashen, who shrugged. This had been his idea. She wasn't going to bail him out.

"We wanted to see the egg one last time, if that's alright."

Derrick nodded and muttered something under his breath in the ancient language. He turned back to face Ashen and Tristan and nodded.

"You can go in now. Don't be too long."

Derrick closed the door behind them. Tristan went over to the green egg, a look of awe on his face as he picked it up and cradled it almost reverently, as if it was his first-born child. After a few moments, he turned and held the egg out to Ashen. She shook her head vigorously. She wanted nothing more to do with this.

"No, Tristan. I don't want to hold it."

Tristan's eyes were gleaming. "Ashen, you might be the next Rider! Just give it a go."

He offered the egg to her again. Ashen's eyes narrowed. What didn't her brother understand? She folded her arms and glared.

"I said no."

Tristan frowned. "Don't be stupid, Ashen."

He shoved the egg at her so that she was forced to unfold her arms and catch it quickly. She just as hurriedly pushed it back towards her brother. For a young man of eighteen, he could be really immature sometimes.

"Stop it, Tristan. You're being an idiot."

Tristan sighed heavily. In his opinion, it was Ashen being foolish. He had a suspicion that she was the next Rider. That was the reason he'd really wanted to come down and 'take a look' at the egg. That way it would probably hatch for her.

"Please, Ashen."

She wasn't going to be persuaded by him. As he pushed the egg at her again, she pushed it right back. This continued for some time and if Ashen wasn't so annoyed, the situation might have been comical.

"Give it up. I've already told you I don't want to hold it. Why can't you just leave it?" snapped Ashen.

"You're being immature," retorted Tristan.

As he pushed the egg at Ashen, she stepped back and so the egg fell to the ground with a dull THUNK. Ashen glanced down at the egg in concern. There was a crack on the surface. She glowered at her brother.

"Now look what you've done! You're so stupid sometimes, Tristan…"

She would have continued to berate him, but there was a strange noise and they both fell silent, staring down at the green egg on the ground. Another crack had appeared in its smooth surface. Ashen was overcome by a wave of dread as she realised that the egg hadn't cracked from the impact of hitting the ground. It was hatching.

Tristan looked triumphant. "I told you so, Ashen. It's your dragon."

Ashen shook her head, refusing to believe it. "It could just as easily be yours. Besides, it's a he."

The dragon burst from the egg and examined its surrounding with a high-pitched sound of confusion. Tristan knelt down beside the creature with wonder in his eyes, as did Ashen. He nudged her.

"Touch him."

Ashen shook her head. "No way."

"We don't know whose dragon he is," Tristan replied irritably, trying to convince Ashen to touch the dragon by placating her, "So why don't you go first?"

Ashen was tired of arguing. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them and nodded. The little green dragon stared at her questioningly as she reached out her hand – and then Ashen found herself rocketing backwards, slamming into the opposite wall. Her head spun and as Ashen picked herself up off the ground, she knew in that instant that her brother was the Rider. Not her, Tristan.

"It's you," she whispered.

Tristan was already reaching for the little green dragon and in the moment he touched him, there was a flash of light and then Tristan was rolling on the ground, shouting in pain. Ashen raced to his side and realised that his hand was glowing slightly. Glowing with the mark of a Rider. The gedwey ignasia.

_My brother._

"He's…he's _my _dragon," Tristan sounded shocked as he picked up the little green dragon, cradled him in his arms.

"What are you going to call him?" Ashen asked.

Tristan shook his head, looking down upon the small green dragon.

"I don't know, but we're going to have to try and explain this to the Varden now."

**PARAGRAPH**

Galbatorix could never quite work out whether it was lucky or unlucky now that he knew the green dragon had hatched for one of the Varden – one of the thieves, incidentally; the boy, Tristan. Zander had managed to discover this and report back to Galbatorix. While the king was not pleased at all that it was a member of the Varden, now he knew who the last Rider was, it would be relatively easy to capture the boy and bring him to Uru'baen.

He had summoned Murtagh to him. The boy inclined his head stiffly as he entered the king's throne room. Luckily Zander wasn't there. Galbatorix knew of the tension between the two of them.

"You are to find the boy named Tristan Reynaldsson," Galbatorix commanded, "I want him and his dragon alive. He may be an asset to us."

Recognition flashed through Murtagh's eyes, but he said nothing. Clearly he was a member of the Varden that Murtagh had associated with in the past.

"What about Eragon?" asked Murtagh in a tone that was hard to place.

Galbatorix shook his head. The youngest Rider he would worry about later. Eragon was more powerful than Tristan, much more. It would be easiest if they got the newest Rider first. Maybe then they might lure Eragon into their trap.

"Leave him for now. Focus on Tristan first."

Murtagh nodded, swallowing hard. Capturing Tristan wasn't an idea he relished. He didn't want another Rider to end up like him, conflicted and frustrated, imprisoned within themselves and unable to escape, hating themselves for what they had to do.

But that wasn't all…seeing Ashen again had made him question himself. Before, when they'd both been with the Varden under Farther Dur, they had been friends. Although Murtagh doubted that Ashen knew the truth…he'd fallen for her then.

He'd known it for sure during the battle when he'd defended her from Durza. The Shade had killed her brother, yet still she'd had the courage – and downright stupidity, admittedly – to confront him. But before he'd had the chance to confess how he felt, he'd been kidnapped by the Twins…and in Uru'baen, as he slowly lost himself, he let go of Ashen.

Now that he'd seen her again, he felt his old feelings stirring, despite his knowledge that the idea was stupid. Ashen would never love him now. He'd seen the look on her face. Did he still love her after all he'd been through?

Murtagh wasn't sure, but thoughts about his feelings for Ashen weren't exactly safe. He was out to capture her brother, after all. Not only that, but he didn't want Zander finding _that _in his head.

**PARAGRAPH**

After discovering that the green egg had hatched for Tristan, it had been talked about by the Varden for the past week. Tristan had eventually named the green dragon Fafnir, and Ashen could see that they were already starting to form the same telepathic bond that Eragon and Saphira shared. While Eragon was pleased that they had another Rider on their side, he also knew the danger this posed to Tristan and Fafnir.

Nasuada had decided to hold a meeting on the matter, to find out what should be done about the matter. In the meeting were Tristan, Fafnir, Saphira, Eragon, Arya and Nasuada. Already the rumours would have spread to Uru'baen. Action needed to be taken.

"He can't be trained," Arya admitted, "Oromis is dead. He must stay with the Varden."

"Fight it out?" Nasuada shook her head. "It's far too dangerous. He needs to learn to use magic, Arya."

Eragon stepped forward. "Perhaps I can teach him."

Nasuada glanced at Eragon. He was younger than Tristan. While she didn't doubt his ability, he still wasn't learned enough in the Rider ways to be able to teach Tristan, even though Eragon was all they had left. She sighed and shook her head vigorously.

"No, Eragon. Maybe a member of Du Vrangr Gata…"

"Perhaps I can help."

Everyone turned around at the smooth voice they didn't recognize. A red-haired girl had strode into the tent. She only appeared to be around Eragon's age, but on closer inspection, they could see the pointed tips of her ears, the wisdom in her violet eyes. An elf.

Arya smiled, clearly the only one present who knew the elf. "Delia Svit-kona. It has been years since I last saw you." The two must have been close, for Arya walked up to Delia and the two elves embraced.

She turned back to face the others, but the expression on her face was not a happy one. In fact, Arya looked troubled, as if she couldn't understand why Delia was here. None of the others had ever seen the red-haired elf before. If they had, Tristan thought, they'd definitely remember her. She was just as beautiful as Arya.

"I can help you," Delia said in her soft, smooth tone, "I have travelled far since I heard about this young Rider." Her gaze landed on Tristan and he flushed slightly. "I can train him. You, too."

She directed her last words at Fafnir. The young dragon was still small, barely up to Tristan's knees. He tilted his head to the side and observed Delia with interest.

"Delia, you don't have to…" Arya sounded despairing.

Delia shot Arya a searing look. This young elf must have been powerful or at least held a position of authority if she could give the elf princess a look like that.

"Arya, I've had enough. I'm not going to lie anymore. From now on, I'm going to tell the truth."


	4. In Danger

**CHAPTER FOUR: In Danger**

"_What I've done, I'll face myself_

_To cross out what I've become_

_Erase myself and let go of_

_What I've done." _

_- What I've Done, Linkin Park_

Delia lifted her chin and observed the party. Arya was looking at her with shock in her green eyes, but everyone else had nothing but anticipation on their faces. A small smile curved the elf's lips.

"I was once a Rider."

There was a commotion at this. Oromis was one thing – but another Rider who had chosen to hide themselves? Eragon looked upon Delia with new eyes. He pitied her…he could guess why she spoke in past tense, why her dragon wasn't with her.

"Once?" Nasuada asked tentatively.

Delia nodded once. "My dragon was killed. After the war, of course, because I am too young to have participated in that. She was the last egg free of Galbatorix's clutches and she chose me. When the king found…well. I managed to survive and I escaped to Du Weldenvarden. I was trained by Oromis, in the hope that even without a dragon, I could someday pose a threat to Galbatorix. I left his training ten years past. Ever since, I have been a nomad…but I have been waiting for chance. With my old master dead, I didn't think I'd ever be able to stand against Galbatorix."

Arya was observing Delia with fascinated horror, as if she hadn't really expected her fellow elf to confess the truth. Eragon supposed it made sense – Oromis had been the only other elf Rider, and besides, Delia was the first female Rider he'd heard about.

"You're willing to teach Tristan what you know?" Arya asked.

Delia inclined her head. "He needs to learn magic. He and Fafnir must learn the ways of the Rider and the dragon. They must embrace their heritage and harness their powers if they can ever hope to defeat Galbatorix."

Tristan felt bitter. He'd never asked for any of this. He hated that all the attention had suddenly turned upon him and Fafnir. If only Ashen had been the Rider and not him. It would have made matters so much easier.

_You would forsake me that easily? _Fafnir asked within the depths of his mind. _You don't trust my judgment? I chose you, Tristan, not your sister._

Tristan couldn't help but smile. The bond he'd formed with his dragon was unbreakable and despite the burden that being a Rider would bring, he wouldn't forsake it for anything.

_Of course not. I'm just wallowing in self-pity._

_You've been doing that for a few days now. I think it's time we embraced what we are._

"Do you agree to this, Tristan? Fafnir?" Arya turned to look at the pair of them. "It is your choice to make."

Fafnir was right. Tristan had to stop running, stop trying to hide. He may not have asked for the responsibilities that had been pushed onto him, but they were there anyway. He couldn't change it. He was going to accept that he was a Rider. He nodded vehemently.

"I will go with Delia to Du Weldenvarden to undergo training."

**PARAGRAPH**

"What?" Ashen blinked, unable to believe what she was hearing. Her brother was leaving her. She'd already lost Colton and now it felt like she was going to lose Tristan as well. "How long, Tristan?"

Tristan shrugged. Now that Ashen looked at him, he was different. More serious than he had been. Fafnir stood by him, large green eyes solemn. Ashen looked down at the dragon, the dragon that Tristan had always thought would belong to her.

"Months, maybe. I'm sorry, Ashen." Tristan averted his eyes. "You know I never wanted this. But Delia has agreed to train me and I think it wise if I know what I'm doing. If I don't, we may never win this war against Galbatorix."

Ashen agreed with her brother, but she still felt that she was going to be all alone now. It had always been her and Tristan. She remembered once when Colton and Tristan had stolen her clothes when she was bathing and she'd raced after them in her towel, screaming and cursing as they laughed wickedly. That seemed like so long ago, when they'd all been whole, when they'd been a family.

She found that she was crying now and she cursed herself for being such a child. Tristan wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. Her tears seeped into the fabric of his shirt as his chin rested on her head.

"I don't want you to go," Ashen choked, "I know it's stupid, but I don't want to be by myself."

Tristan didn't want to leave his sister either. He was going to miss her terribly.

_The pain will go away, _Fafnir convinced him, _You will miss her, but there is much you have yet to learn. The same for me._

Ashen offered her brother a smile and despite the tears in her eyes, her smile was strong.

"When you come back, you'll be powerful." Her tone then turned teasing. "I'll watch the girls chasing you around then. Now that you're a Rider they'll take an interest indefinitely."

Tristan flushed as Ashen knew he would. He embraced his little sister fiercely once more, but he knew he couldn't stay. Delia would grow impatient. She was young and although wise, not as mature as Arya.

"Chin up, Ashen." He reminded her, as he always had after Colton had died. Whenever she'd got upset, he'd used those words and she'd calmed down. "May your sword stay sharp."

Ashen nodded vigorously. She had to be brave now. As Tristan took a deep breath and turned to leave her, with Fafnir gliding along beside him, she stepped forward, having one last thing to say.

"Tristan!"

He turned to face her. There was something grim in her eyes.

"Stay alive."

**PARAGRAPH**

Murtagh was feeling sour. He knew that Galbatorix was not going to be pleased at all with him. He also knew that it wasn't his fault. He'd done everything Galbatorix had asked. How was he supposed to know that Tristan had vanished?

_Calm down, Murtagh._ Thorn sounded a bit concerned. _We can't face the king when you're agitated._

_I wonder why,_ Murtagh snarled, then immediately regretted it, _I'm sorry, Thorn. I just don't want to go through this again._

Galbatorix watched the young Rider through narrowed eyes as he entered the throne room. He'd known about Murtagh's failure the moment that he'd set foot back in Uru'baen. There was a bitter look about the young man's face.

"Let me just explain," Murtagh said, not giving the king a chance to say anything, "I did everything you asked of me. I went, I searched for Tristan. He's not there. He's not in Surda. He's gone."

Once, this wouldn't have shocked Galbatorix. Now, however…it did. He couldn't have gone to train. Eragon was the only other free Rider and he doubted the boy would be training Tristan. Had Tristan fled, fearing the responsibilities and powers that being a Rider brought? He wouldn't be the first.

Galbatorix was clever. If Murtagh couldn't find Tristan, then the Rider was clearly aware of the danger he was in. He'd probably hidden from them. There were always other options and Galbatorix knew exactly how to lure Tristan out from wherever he was hiding. A devious smile curved his lips. He was in control. He was already winning this war.

"Your incompetence clearly knows no bounds," sighed Galbatorix. Murtagh's mouth twisted into a scowl and his eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. "You seem to have a problem with capturing other Riders, don't you? No matter. I'm sure you're aware that Tristan has a younger sister…Ashen, I believe her name is."

Murtagh felt dread hold him in its coils. He could see where this was going. _No, please, no…_he didn't want Ashen being brought into all of this. Would he undergo torture to make sure she wasn't hurt? He wasn't sure.

"The Rider has already lost his brother. He couldn't stand it if he lost his sister as well. I want you to bring her here, to Uru'baen. She will be your responsibility. Surely a sixteen-year-old girl isn't too hard for you to handle, Murtagh?"

Murtagh ignored the mocking in Galbatorix's tone. His hands were clenched into fists and he inclined his head, desperate to get out of the throne room before the king realised what he had missed. He turned to leave.

"Wait."

Murtagh's heart sank. He'd hoped in vain. He saw the evil smile on Galbatorix's face and knew.

"There have been too many slip-ups lately, Murtagh. Swear to me in the ancient language that you will bring the girl here."

**PARAGRAPH**

Zander followed Murtagh from the throne room. The young Rider tensed and whirled around to find the magician following him. He grabbed Zander and shoved him up against the wall, teeth bared.

"Why are you following me?" he snapped.

Zander laughed and held up his hands. "I mean you no harm, Rider. I'm just interested in knowing what sort of mission Galbatorix has got you on this time…after all, you failed to capture the Green Rider."

Murtagh ground his teeth. "If it was any of your concern, I'd let you know."

He turned to march off, aware that Zander was still watching him. The magician's green eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You know that I can force it out of you if I wanted to."

Murtagh whirled around. "Is that a threat?"

Zander shrugged. Murtagh could interpret it however he wanted. What the Rider wasn't aware of was that the magician already knew Murtagh's mission.

"You really thought Galbatorix hadn't told me?" Zander's tone was mocking. "I know you've been ordered after the girl. To tell the truth, I'm a little concerned, Murtagh. I don't think you can handle it."

Murtagh didn't say anything, so Zander smiled and continued.

"What you don't understand is what it would take to lure the Green Rider in. You'll have to torture her, which I don't think you could handle. To attract the Rider's attention you are going to have to hurt her."

Murtagh's eyebrows contracted into a frown.

_What is he talking about, Thorn? I don't understand him._

_He underestimates your ability. I am not sure what he wants, though._

"Your point being?"

Zander smirked.

"Give the girl to me," he insisted, "I'll be responsible for her. I know how conflicted you are, Murtagh. I can take the burden of having to harm her off your hands. I have no qualms about torturing a Varden rebel."

Murtagh knew he couldn't do that. Galbatorix would see him as weak and view Zander as being stronger if Murtagh shirked his duties and Zander stepped in. Also, if something happened to Ashen – if she escaped, if she died – Galbatorix would still blame him…because, as he would say, it should have been Murtagh watching her.

As if that wasn't enough of a reason, it was _Ashen._ There was no way he would give her, or any girl for that matter, to someone like Zander. He'd experienced the magician's torture first-hand. He wouldn't want anyone else to suffer something like that. Ashen's brother Colton had been tortured to death. It sickened Murtagh to know that if she was given to Zander, she might meet the same fate.

His eyes narrowed and he shook his head as he glared at Zander. The magician shrugged, looking a little disappointed.

"Oh, well. It was your choice, Rider."

**PARAGRAPH**

Tristan didn't like leaving the Varden. It had been his home for ten years. Not to mention that he despised having to leave Ashen by herself. Although she was more than capable of defending herself, he still worried about her.

Delia watched him half-amused, half-sympathetic.

"You miss your sister."

Tristan swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yes."

It was a long way to Du Weldenvarden. It was frightening to think that by the time Tristan was ready to go back to the Varden, Fafnir would be big enough for him to fly on. The young dragon observed his Rider.

_I miss her, too. I didn't know her long, but because of the bond we share, my feelings for her will always be strong. She has a good heart._

Tristan remembered Ashen at the battle under Farthen Dur, which had participated in despite Ajihad and Tristan and practically everyone else telling her that she shouldn't. He remembered as she bared her teeth and slashed down enemy soldiers. He remembered the way her eyes burned when she saw Durza. He remembered afterwards how she'd cried, first for the shock and trauma of having killed, then because of the death of Ajihad – and apparently Murtagh.

Murtagh. The name made Tristan wary. He would probably have to fight the Red Rider someday. It wasn't a thought that appealed to him.

_Hopefully, _Fafnir said, tuning into Tristan's thoughts, _That won't be for a long time yet._


	5. Let Me Go

**CHAPTER FIVE: Let Me Go**

**A/N: Thank you to Earth Kid Tree Hugger for your awesome beta skills! She is now officially my beta, dear readers.**

"_Would you mind if I hurt you?_

_Understand that I need to_

_Wish that I had other choices_

_Than to harm the one I love."_

_- What Have You Done, Within Temptation_

Ashen paced the empty courtyard in the dead of night. She twisted her hands through her blonde hair, trying to banish her fears. She had to convince herself that it had only been a nightmare, that she had to breathe. So far it was proving to be hard.

"Ashen?"

She jumped and whipped around to see Eragon walking towards her, a concerned look on his face. Saphira landed across the vast courtyard and observed her with cool, intelligent eyes.

"Are you alright?" asked Eragon.

"I'm fine," Ashen lied, turning away from him so that he wouldn't see the tears welling in her eyes. Ever since Colton had gone missing, she'd had nightmares of him dying, which now she was used to. But now, it was nightmares about Tristan. She knew it stemmed from her fear for him, except she didn't know how much more she could take.

Eragon heaved a sigh. "There was a time you once trusted me. I wish you still would. You can talk to me, you know."

Ashen turned to face him, the tears on her cheeks glowing eerily silver in the moonlight. Before she knew what was happening, she was crying openly and Eragon had his arms around her in a brotherly embrace.

"I have the nightmares," Ashen whispered, "Colton dying. Tristan dying. I keep waking up and…I keep thinking it's real, Eragon. Colton was tortured for being associated with a dragon egg. Now that Tristan's the last Rider, I'm worried the same is going to happen to him."

Eragon kissed Ashen on the forehead. He wished that there was some magic he knew that could stop her from being so frightened for her brother's safety all the time. Despite what others in the Varden thought, his feelings for her were those of a brother towards his sister. Now that Tristan had left, Eragon felt it was up to him to watch over Ashen, despite the fact that they were the same age.

"Tristan is safe in Du Weldenvarden. Galbatorix will never find him there."

Ashen nodded and stepped back out of Eragon's embrace. She glanced up at Saphira with something a lot like wonder.

"Saphira, I hope that Fafnir turns out to be as magnificent as you one day."

While Ashen couldn't contact Saphira in the manner that Eragon could, Saphira broadcast her thoughts straight to Ashen.

_Thank you, Ashen. Your compliments are flattering._

Ashen sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping.

"I think I'm going to take Perugia out for a ride." Perugia was Ashen's horse. When she was upset or angry, she'd go out for a ride, away from the capital and the Varden and all of the people. She'd go to some secluded place and come back a few hours later, when she was alright with it all.

Eragon frowned. "I'm not entirely sure that's safe, Ashen."

Ashen didn't think it was safe either, but right now, she didn't care. She felt reckless. Besides, if someone wanted to attack her, they'd be searching for her in Surda. They wouldn't be out scouring the plains in case she was there.

"It's safer than here."

Eragon couldn't disagree with that. "Aye. Take care then."

**PARAGRAPH**

An hour's ride out from Surda, Ashen finally felt free. The darkness fell around her, but instead of feeling trapped by it, she felt that she was cloaked by it. Ashen saw Surda as being the danger to her. If people were looking for the egg, looking to kill her because of her involvement, they'd look there. The further away she was, the safer she was. Just like Tristan, in Du Weldenvarden. The Empire couldn't touch him there.

"Nice night for a ride, isn't it?"

Ashen knew that voice. As she spun around, she felt the panic enveloping her. She hadn't been mistaken. Murtagh was striding casually towards her, garbed in black with Zar'roc by his side. Thorn waited silently a few metres back. Ashen scrambled away from him, cursing her own stupidity. Why hadn't she heard them coming?

"What do you want?" she demanded, "I don't have the egg."

Murtagh raised his eyebrows. "I know. It's hatched for your brother."

Ashen's hands clenched into fists. She hadn't brought her sword, only her bow and arrow. They wouldn't be much use to her now, especially as she wasn't anywhere near as good an archer as Tristan. Sizing Murtagh up, she knew there was no escape. If he wanted to kill her, she couldn't stop him. He was bigger and stronger. A better swordsman. Far more talented in magic.

"So you have a romantic interest in Eragon?" Murtagh's lips tweaked into the bleak hint of a smile, but his eyes remained dark. Ashen was horrified by the knowledge that he had watched her, waited for her to leave Surda, followed her out here. "I didn't see that coming."

"I didn't see _you _coming," Ashen shot back at him, "Not that it's any of your concern, but no. Eragon and I are only friends. Anyway, I don't see why it should matter to you."

Murtagh remained silent for a few moments and then Ashen dared to repeat the question she was afraid to know the answer to.

"What do you want?"

Murtagh's eyes flicked up to meet hers. "You."

It suddenly became clear to Ashen, the intricacy of Galbatorix's plans. He'd used the Ra'zac to kidnap Katrina in order to lure in Roran, which in turn would lead in Eragon…Murtagh wasn't here to kill her. He was here because she was the person that Tristan – the last Rider – cared about the most.

"No," whispered Ashen, her eyes wide with horror. Then her voice grew stronger. "No. I'm not going to Uru'baen. I won't meet the same fate Colton did."

Murtagh shook his head slowly and there was a bitter gleam in his eyes.

"You don't understand, Ashen. I don't have a choice. So either you can get up on Thorn's back, or I'll take you by force."

Ashen reached over for Perugia. She slapped the reins down and horse galloped off without its rider. Perugia was a trained war-horse. By the time she returned to the Varden without Ashen, they'd know what had happened.

"I am not coming with you," Ashen spat, even though she knew she couldn't stop him.

Murtagh sighed heavily. "So be it."

He moved fast. One moment he was in front of her, the next he had a firm grip on her upper arms and was dragging her backwards, towards Thorn. Ashen kicked and struggled and even though she knew no one could hear her, she screamed: "Help! Someone help me!"

"Screaming won't make any difference," Murtagh assured her. Despite his strength, he was struggling to keep a hold on the wildly thrashing girl. With a grunt, he lifted Ashen over his shoulder while she continued to kick and thump in the vain hope that it would actually make a difference. Murtagh gave a tired laugh at her efforts.

"Let me go!" she insisted, "Murtagh, let me go!"

He refused to listen, so she planted a firm kick in his chest. He sucked in his breath and his grip slackened. Ashen fought her way free and landed heavily on the ground. Her head spun, but she forced herself to her feet, to run. Murtagh leaned forward and snagged her around the wrist, pulling her back towards him.

_She's going to be troublesome, Murtagh, _Thorn warned.

"_Slytha_," Murtagh muttered.

He felt the magic leave him as the fight left Ashen. Her eyes fluttered and closed and he caught her around the waist as she fell. She wasn't going to be pleased at all when she woke up. Murtagh was overcome by a sudden wave of guilt, but he could not disobey the king. He hoisted the unconscious girl up and clambered onto Thorn's back.

**PARAGRAPH**

"Gone?" Eragon couldn't believe what he was hearing, "What do you mean, she's gone? She must just not be back yet. She told me she was going riding on Perugia…"

Nasuada shook her head, a grim expression on her face. "Perugia came back without Ashen. That horse is highly trained. She never would have left Ashen unless she was forced to."

Eragon was troubled. Ashen couldn't be dead. It just wasn't possible. It would be like…like finding out that Murtagh had been sworn to serve Galbatorix.

_Saphira? Do you really think she's dead?_

Saphira bowed her head. _I don't know, Eragon._

Arya shook her head slowly. Her green eyes were bright and she seemed to have a theory of her own.

"I doubt Galbatorix would have sent someone to kill Ashen. She's worth too much alive."

Eragon frowned, beginning to see where this was going and not liking it. Of course…Ashen was Tristan's sister, and Tristan was a Rider. Galbatorix wouldn't find him in Du Weldenvarden, so he'd sent someone after Ashen instead.

"Perugia is a warhorse," Arya continued quietly, glancing across at Eragon, "There aren't many creatures that could outpace her."

Eragon understand the implications immediately. It must have been Murtagh. He had captured Ashen and probably taken her to Uru'baen. His hands clenched into fists. There was no way she could be rescued from Uru'baen. That dark place was far too dangerous.

Nasuada sighed and shook her head slowly. Her concerns were far greater. Horrible as it might be, she knew they had to keep Ashen's capture a secret from her brother. Tristan had already lost Colton and he would be after his sister in a flash – which was exactly what Galbatorix wanted. Instead, he needed to focus on his training…which wouldn't happen if he found out what had happened to Ashen.

**PARAGRAPH**

Tristan's eyes flickered open. He sat up abruptly, gasping for air. Something terrible had happened, he just knew it. Fafnir cocked his head to the side and observed Tristan with no expression whatsoever.

_Something's wrong, Fafnir. I never should have left the Varden…_

_Nonsense. You're just concerned. _

Tristan wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead, letting Fafnir completely into his mind. It was more than just a matter of being concerned. There was a sick feeling in his stomach, much the same as when Colton had gone missing. Deep inside, Tristan had already known his brother was doomed to die.

_What if something really has happened?_

_There's nothing we can do about it now, Tristan. We're halfway to Du Weldenvarden._

"You look worried," Delia noted wryly. Tristan jumped; he hadn't even known the elf Rider was awake. "Don't be. You must learn to let go of these bonds to which you cling so tightly. Focus on what you have with Fafnir. For now, time stands still. Everything else must wait."

She picked up a rock and placed it on the ground in front of Tristan.

"Your training is all that matters. Focus your energy, your entire being, on this rock. Say '_stenr risa_."

Tristan narrowed his eyes. "_Stenr risa._"

Nothing happened. Delia didn't look surprised, but Tristan was overcome by a wave of disappointment and his shoulders slumped. Fafnir gave a sympathetic growl and padded towards the Rider.

_You can't always expect things to work out the first time._

_I know. But…I was just hoping._

Tristan was impatient. Terrible things were happening in Alagaesia, yet he felt that he was progressing so slowly, that it would be ages before he was ready. He was getting impatient. Normally, he was calm and laid-back, but this was different. This was about the fate of Alagaesia. If only he could speed up his learning. He couldn't even use magic yet, so how was he supposed to stand up against Murtagh and Galbatorix? What if, by the time he reached his full potential, it was too late?

Fafnir reached out to him, offering comfort.

_We will be ready, Tristan. When we are, we will join with Eragon and Saphira…and then, we'll be unstoppable._

_I hope so. Because otherwise, we are doomed._


	6. I'll Show You A Monster

**CHAPTER SIX: I'll Show You A Monster**

"_It's in your eyes, what's on your mind._

_I see the truth that you've buried inside._

_It's in your eyes, what's on your mind._

_There is no mercy, just anger I find."_

_- A Dangerous Mind, Within Temptation_

Ashen's eyes snapped open. The first thing she noticed when she sat up and glanced around her was that she wasn't in a cell. Well, that was – unexpected. She thought she'd been captured by Murtagh. Shouldn't she be in a dungeon by now?

The room she was in wasn't a spectacular one, but it was better than a cell. It was fairly small. Her bed was shunted in the corner and there was a wardrobe on the other side, along with a small washbasin. Everything in the room was basic and if she had to guess, this was had once been a servant's quarters…not that she minded.

"You're awake."

Ashen saw Murtagh sitting on the end of her bed and nearly jumped out of her skin. How had he got in here so quickly? She pushed herself as far away from him as possible, which made him frown.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Ashen's eyes narrowed. She knew why Murtagh had brought her here…wherever 'here' was. Most likely Uru'baen. For Galbatorix to gain Tristan, her brother would have to truly believe she was in danger. She highly suspected that this involved torture.

"Then what use am I?" she asked of him, folding her arms across her chest, "I'm not a fool, Murtagh. I know you need me to get to Tristan."

Ashen jumped off the bed and crossed to the washbasin, and glanced into the spotted mirror, pretending to examine her reflection. In reality, she was watching Murtagh carefully. How much had he changed from the boy she'd been in love with?

Murtagh ran his hands through his dark hair. How was he supposed to explain his predicament to Ashen?

"I know what you're doing," Ashen glared at him in the mirror, "You're trying to get me to trust you. I know what's going to happen to me. The same thing that happened to Colton."

Murtagh got up off the bed. Why couldn't Ashen see that he wasn't going to harm her?

"I'm not evil," he protested.

She whirled around, her dark blue eyes gleaming with anger.

"Don't act as though you're an innocent," she snarled at him, her hands clenching into fists, "You killed Hrothgar. You've killed countless Varden soldiers. You haven't shown any mercy before."

Murtagh's countenance darkened and a nerve twitched in his cheek. He was starting to get angry, but Ashen no longer cared. If he lashed out at her, it would only be proving what she'd said all along. She didn't know who this Rider was, but he wasn't the Murtagh she'd met at Farthen Dur and fallen for.

"Don't try me, Ashen." His tone was dangerous.

"I'm not scared of you," she snapped. She hated the Empire with a passion. She had believed Murtagh to be a tortured young man, but now she wasn't so sure. He'd captured her despite her protest. Did he have no heart? Her opinion of him was always changing and right now, he was everything she hated: a Rider who bowed to the king's wishes. A coward. "You're a monster."

Murtagh's temper snapped like an elastic band. Ashen could never understand the demons he faced. This was what he couldn't stand: the look on her face like she was disgusted with what he'd become. He bared his teeth and grabbed her by the shoulders, slamming her against the wall.

"I'll show you a monster," he hissed, forcing her arms above her head and holding both of her wrists with one hand, a display of superior strength. Ashen struggled against him, grimacing at the bruising grip on her wrists, but he was far too strong.

His eyes, full of rage and bitterness, met hers. He was fully aware of how fragile she was, of how one wrong move could break her wrists. Murtagh was stronger than even he knew and it meant that he could not only overpower Ashen, but hurt her if he wasn't careful. He didn't want to hurt her. She'd been one of the only ones at the Varden who'd accepted him.  
"Let go of me," seethed Ashen, thrashing in his grasp. He knew if she went on like this, she _would_ get injured. Right now, he was so furious. She'd called him a monster. He wanted to shout at her. _I am not a monster._ But he realised he was already proving that he was what she claimed he was.

Then the red haze of anger vanished and Murtagh was appalled at himself. He released her and staggered backwards.

Ashen ruefully rubbed her wrists, glowering mistrustfully across at Murtagh. He really _had _changed.

"So I was right then," she challenged.

Murtagh shook his head fervently. "I just got so angry…I didn't mean to…" He sighed and hung his head in defeat, letting his dark hair flop into his eyes. "You can't understand what it's like, Ashen. Serving Galbatorix. I hate that man as much as I hated Morzan…"

He trailed off and shook his head. Despite the fact that he'd most likely bruised her wrists, Ashen felt her strong walls beginning to crumble around her. Who was Murtagh, really? She didn't think she'd ever really got the chance to find out, which was why she didn't know what to think of him right now.

"You want to know a real monster?" Murtagh asked her, advancing on her. He was over six feet tall, and despite the fact that she was of average height for a girl her age, he towered over her. "There is a magician named Zander who was the one to torture me when I came here. I will never forget what he did to me. Do you know what he said just before I went out to catch you?"

Ashen remained silent. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"He asked me for you." Murtagh's voice was hoarse and his tone was filled with suppressed emotions. "He would have tortured you into insanity, Ashen. Is that what you want? Would you have preferred that I'd handed you over to a monster like him?"

Ashen licked her dry lips. "So what _are _you supposed to do with me? Just keep me locked away until my brother comes for me? He's somewhere Galbatorix will never find him. It would be months before he even knew I was gone."

Murtagh wasn't sure what to say to this. Despite the fact that he'd captured Ashen, he could already tell that their relationship was not just one of the captor and the captive. It was far more complicated than that. In a way, Murtagh was almost glad Ashen was here…but that was selfish of him, especially when he knew that Galbatorix would expect him to torture the girl. Not that he'd admit that to Ashen.

Murtagh headed towards the door, still not having answered Ashen's questions. He didn't know whether he could right now. He just needed to get himself sorted out.

_Thorn, why am I always so conflicted?_

_You can't help what Galbatorix has done to us. It's natural that you don't want to hurt Ashen, just like you don't want to hurt Eragon._

The only difference was that Eragon was still playing the hero in the Varden, while he held Ashen prisoner here in Uru'baen. What would he do if Galbatorix tried to force him to torture her? Her pain would affect Tristan. Siblings shared a strong bond.

Ashen watched him as he left the room. Now she was by herself. She sat down hard on her bed, examining her bruised wrists and thinking. Sooner or later, everything was going to build up and then explode in an inferno. Murtagh clearly didn't relish the thought of torturing her…but they both knew it was only a matter of time before Galbatorix charged him with hurting Ashen.

**PARAGRAPH**

_A timid knock on the door alerted Murtagh to the fact that he was no longer alone. He crossed his quarters, expecting Ajihad or Eragon. Instead he found himself looking upon a blonde girl of around fifteen, who flushed and folded her arms._

"_I'm sorry if I disturbed you."_

_Murtagh recognised her. When he'd first come in with Eragon, she'd been crying wretchedly, embracing a boy a little younger than Murtagh who he assumed was her brother. He didn't know why she'd been crying, and it would be rude to ask._

"_No, that's alright." Murtagh opened the door a little wider. "Come in."_

_The girl walked in and looked around in wonder, before turning to face Murtagh with an amused expression on her face._

"_I think it's probably even bigger than my room."_

_Murtagh had no doubt that despite her young age, this girl was a hardened warrior. Did she know who she'd chosen to associate with? Almost everyone else in the Varden was avoiding him like the plague because he was Morzan's son. He cleared his throat, unwilling to scare her away but knowing she deserved the truth._

"_You do know that I'm Morzan's son?"_

_The girl shrugged as if it was of no consequence, which surprised him._

"_So what? Your name's Murtagh, isn't it?"_

_He nodded, still unable to believe the fact that she didn't care who he was. The expression on her face was so full of awe, almost excitement…yet he knew she wasn't the innocent, carefree girl she appeared to be. She smiled._

"_I'm Ashen, by the way."_

_Murtagh cleared his throat. "When I first came…you were upset."_

_He didn't ask why. He left the implications hanging. Ashen could just ignore it if she wanted. The happiness disappeared from her face and he instantly regretted upsetting her. She gnawed at her lip._

"_My…my brother," she stammered, "My eldest brother, Colton. He helped out with Saphira's egg a lot and…Durza captured him just before he ambushed Arya. He tortured him to death."_

_Ashen hung her head and Murtagh immediately understood her pain. He'd seen the same sort of agony in Eragon's eyes when Eragon had lost Brom. He wanted to tell her it was alright, but it wasn't. He wanted to comfort her somehow, but he'd only just met her._

"_I'm sorry for your loss."_

_Ashen gave him a grim smile and he returned it with a humourless one of his own. Murtagh liked this girl. He liked how she was willing to put aside his past, as people so much older than her didn't want to do. Ashen was different. Murtagh was a person who was had been shunned his whole life…and now this girl actually accepted him._

**PARAGRAPH**

Tristan was astonished at first when Delia didn't present him to Islanzadi. However, the elf quickly assured him that it wasn't necessary – she was training him in private. He was to be the Varden's secret weapon. Not even the queen of the elves had the right to know that he was in Du Weldenvarden.

Delia pointed out a small house set amidst the top of the trees, with a roost big enough for a full-grown dragon. Fafnir flitted upwards and observed the tree-house with his all-seeing green eyes.

_This is spectacular, Tristan!_

"That is where you two will be staying," Delia said, a wry smile on her face as she observed the pleased reactions of both Rider and dragon, "During your training, it would be ill-advised for you to seek out the elves, apart from on celebration days such the annual Midsummer Celebration. I promised Nasuada that I would keep you as isolated as possible."

To Tristan, Delia didn't seem the sort to tie herself down. She seemed free-spirited and quirky, the sort of elf who didn't really associate with others. Perhaps this was why she shared a strong bond with Arya, who had separated herself from her people for many years.

Delia looked up suddenly, tensing. Her violet eyes widened slightly and then suddenly, the trees were whispering and Tristan found himself glancing around, wondering what was happening. The trees here were spaced a fair distance apart...and for good reason. Tristan couldn't believe what was happening as he heard the familiar sound of powerful wing beats…and then a mighty purple dragon landed in front of them.

Nasuada's face was a tight mask as she observed Eragon on Saphira's back. She was reluctant to let the young Rider leave Surda. If Galbatorix attacked again, they would be rendered helpless. No Eragon, and no Tristan. Her heart sank, but she tried to keep up her brave mask. She didn't control what Eragon did. She'd like to think she did, but in reality, he was a Rider. There was no restraining him.

"How long will you be gone?" she asked, trying to hide her concern.

Eragon shrugged. He didn't know any better than Nasuada did. There were things he and Saphira had to do. So many things. If they were successful, they might have a better chance at defeating Galbatorix.

"I am not sure. But I swear you an oath: when I am done, here is the first place I will come."

Nasuada nodded, pleased by this. She hadn't been the only one who'd come to see Eragon off – Arya, Roran, even Katrina. Roran was looking up at his cousin with a mixture of pride and chagrin. He didn't want Eragon to leave. None of them did.

"May your sword stay sharp," he called over to Eragon, who turned in his saddle and offered Roran a sad smile.  
They'd decided on a quiet ceremony, just a small farewell party. Nasuada didn't want Galbatorix gaining word that Eragon had left the Varden. There would be spies in Surda and she didn't want them to find out about this. In time, the truth would be exposed. But not now.

"Take care, Eragon." Arya's voice was quiet and she offered him a gentle smile. "Know our thoughts and hopes go with you."

Eragon nodded, swallowing hard. It was hard for him to leave the Varden. He placed his hand on Saphira's back and felt her support.

_You know we can do this, Eragon. Be strong._

With that, she launched herself into the air and disappeared in the night sky amongst the clouds and the stars.

When they were out of sight, Arya sighed heavily and turned to face Nasuada. Katrina and Roran were already walking back towards the city, hand in hand. The elf's eyes were dark and grim.

"I didn't want to say anything in front of Eragon," confessed Arya, "I knew he would want to stay, but…"

There was something haunted in her gaze and Nasuada just wanted to grip her by the shoulders and shake her as a cold thrill of fear came over her.

"But what, Arya?"

"There are rumours of a Shade in the east."


	7. Whatever's Meant To Be

**CHAPTER SEVEN: Whatever's Meant To Be**

**A/N: Nolfavrell and Brynja do not belong to me (I just named Brynja – she is the teenage girl with the forearms of a swordsman whose fortune Angela reads in Brisingr), only Tynan is mine. Oh, and Ashen and Tristan.**

"_Here me when I say, when I say, I believe_

_Nothing's gonna change, nothing's gonna change destiny_

_Whatever's meant to be will work out perfectly."_

_- Keep Holding On, Avril Lavigne_

Tristan gazed up at the purple dragon with shock and amazement in his eyes. He was no expert, but this dragon was far bigger than both Saphira and Thorn. That meant it had to be a lot older. The dragon looked down upon Tristan with a curious gleam in its dark eyes. Examining the dragon more closely, Tristan could see that it was more slender at the neck and the legs. He decided it was a female dragon. A female…so Saphira wasn't the last after all.

Delia smiled grimly. "This is Aziza."

_Welcome to Ellesmera, Tristan Reynaldsson. We have been waiting for you for a very long time._

Tristan whipped around to look at Delia. The elf noted the accusing look in his eyes and could hardly blame him. His mouth was pressed into a firm line.

"You told us…you said that your dragon was dead!"

Delia shrugged. "It was easier at the time. You were the only one I wished to know the whole truth. As a Rider, it is your right. Not even Arya knows and you must swear that you will not tell anyone."

She told him the words in the ancient language, and Tristan sullenly repeated them. He didn't like it that Delia had lied to him, but he could understand why she was only telling him the truth now.

"So what _is _the truth then?" demanded Tristan, "Are you going to tell me?"

A smile curved Delia's lips, almost mocking.

"Sit down. I'm prepared to tell you everything."

Tristan sat down with his back pressed against the thick trunk of a tree. Fafnir scuttled over to his Rider and rested one of his scaled legs on Tristan's knee.

_Do you think we can forgive her, Fafnir?_

_Let's just listen to what she has to say first._

Delia sighed and now Tristan could definitely see the pain in her violet eyes, eyes so like her dragon's. Clearly, her tale was not an easy one.

"Of course, you know that I'm far too young to have been a participant after the Fall. When Galbatorix…when he took the three eggs – red, blue and green – my people only located one: the purple egg."

She gave Aziza a knowing smile and the dragon growled affectionately. Clearly, the two had a very strong bond.

"This all happened before I was born. By the time I was twenty years old – which is little more than a child, by our standards – I was allowed to touch the egg. It hatched for me only days later…and Aziza was my dragon. Islanzadi knew it was best to keep us a secret, had us trained by Oromis and Glaedr…and then Oromis died in the Siege of Gil'ead just recently. I knew that when the Green Rider came, it would be my duty to train them…you."

Tristan could begin to comprehend. Delia was a secret weapon, like Tristan was supposed to have been. He could understand why she hadn't showed herself until now, why she'd pretended her dragon was dead.

"You must understand," Delia sounded almost frantic now, a strange thing for an elf, "I was so frustrated. I wanted to show myself. Even before the Rider War, I wanted to fight Galbatorix…but Oromis made me swear that I wouldn't, not until I was ready."

Tristan picked out strands of grass with his fingers, concentrating on what Delia was saying. He was beginning to feel hope rise within him. They had three Riders and their dragons…against Galbatorix and Murtagh. Maybe, just maybe, they would stand a chance.

**PARAGRAPH**

Murtagh had given Ashen time alone. Five days, to be precise. He had been patient and allowed her to burn out her childish rage. She had thrown things. She had pounded on the door. At one stage, he'd even heard her muffled sobs…but he'd hardened his heart against them. He knew the consequences if he let Ashen go.

He might have given her even longer than five days in solitude, if it hadn't been for the escape attempt. He was asleep in his bed when Thorn's voice sounded in his head.

_Murtagh! Ashen has managed to get out!_

Damn that girl, Murtagh thought, marching out into the corridor, his feet slapping angrily on the stone tiles as he headed down towards Ashen's room. How had the girl managed to get out? He cursed himself for not putting magic around the room. He had to admit that it was his own mistakes that had landed him in this situation.

In the dim torchlight, he saw a mane of blonde hair disappear around the corner, and then heard a groan of disappointment. Clearly, the twisted hallways of Uru'baen were difficult for Ashen to navigate. He hurried around the corner and she whirled around, panic flashing in her eyes as she saw him. For a moment they both just stood there, Ashen looking like a rabbit caught by a wolf. She turned on her heel and ran.

Ashen knew she didn't stand a chance. Murtagh was much faster than her. She'd only managed to run a few feet before a strong arm wrapped around her waist and she was pulled back into Murtagh's muscular chest. She opened her mouth to scream, but he instantly guessed her intentions and clamped a hand over her mouth.

"_Don't _scream." He warned her, his breath hot on her neck. "Ashen, I am not a patient man. If you continue to test me, you'll be sorry. Trust me, if you think you would have made it out of Uru'baen alive…think again."

Ashen struggled against him, but his arm around her waist only tightened and his grip around her mouth was so tight that she thought her face might break.

"I'm going to let you go now," Murtagh told her, "If you scream, it will only bode ill for you. Do you understand?"

Her blonde hair brushed against him as she nodded and Murtagh relinquished his grasp on her, only to quickly take her by the arm and pull her back towards her room. Ashen was looking furious with herself for having been caught.

"You could let me go," whispered Ashen, trying in vain to pull her arm from Murtagh's grasp, "No one would know…they couldn't have known you were awake…"

Murtagh didn't answer as he continued to march her back down the corridor. Galbatorix would know. He always knew. Besides, it would only be worse for Ashen if she tried to escape. If the guards saw her, they would kill her on sight rather than let her escape. He opened the door to her room and pushed her inside.

"I wouldn't advise trying to escape again," he said in a low voice, "I know from experience. It's only worse if you run."

He saw the defeat on Ashen's face as he closed and locked her door. Then, he started muttering in the ancient language. Ashen wouldn't be escaping again.

**PARAGRAPH**

The reports of a Shade were growing more frequent. Nasuada could see that people were being to become afraid. There had only been two Shades recently – Varaug and Durza. Neither had been easy to defeat and with Eragon, the notorious Shadeslayer, away…well, they were panicking.

He was allegedly known as Shade Mordecai, but they couldn't know if that was true, especially when so few witnesses survived encounters with a Shade. Nasuada knew how dangerous they could be, how unpredictable.

During this time of uncertainty and fear, Nasuada had just about given up hope. They had no Riders with them and Surda was rife with trepidation because of the talk of this Shade. However, she was surprised when a group of hard-faced teenagers entered her tent, escorted by one of the Kull.

"They were adamant that they saw you, Lady Nightstalker."

Nasuada glanced over the three of them. She recognised one of them – the boy Nolfavrell, from Carvahall – but the girl with strong forearms and the tall boy, she didn't know. She sat up straighter, seeing the determination glittering in their eyes.

"Lady Nasuada." Nolfavrell inclined his head respectfully. "We wish to hunt down the Shade before he reaches the Varden."

Nasuada looked over them all with shock. Were these teenagers insane? Killing a Shade was a very difficult task. She appraised them carefully. Nolfavrell appeared to be around thirteen or fourteen, the girl and the other boy a little older. They must all have been younger than her.

"Do you think this wise?" she asked in little more than a whisper, "Eragon was nearly killed by a Shade in the battle under Farthen Dur. I admire your determination, but do you really think you stand a chance?"

Nolfavrell made to speak, but the older boy took a step forward. Looking at him, Nasuada guessed him to be fifteen or sixteen. He had a baby-like face, blond hair and blue eyes. He didn't look like he'd survive a minute against a Shade.

"With all due respect, Lady Nasuada, we wish you to give us a chance." He spoke smoothly. "My name is Tynan and I'm a magician. You may be aware that Nolfavrell here has been trained in the use of a sword and is a fine fighter, and Brynja has been trained in archery and fencing. We may be young, Lady, but we are all capable. After all, is not Eragon Shadeslayer my own age?"

Nasuada didn't know what to say. These three were definitely persistent and she had to admit that they had courage. The hard looks on their faces made them seem older than they really were. She had to remind herself that, especially in Nolfavrell's case, they were little more than children.

"It is not for me to give you permission to take up this quest to hunt down a Shade," Nasuada sighed heavily, brushing back a strand of her dark hair, "If that is what you intend to do, you may leave Surda to do so. However, the blame rests not on my head if you fail. I neither give nor withhold my permission."

The three exchanged triumphant glances and Nasuada felt the heavy burden of her responsibility weighing down on her shoulders. Despite what she'd said, the three teenagers clearly saw themselves as having Nasuada's blessing to hunt down Mordecai. If that was what they desired, she would not stop them. They would all most likely be killed.

"What makes you want to undertake this mission so readily?" she asked of them.

Nolfavrell's eyes hardened. "For my people, Lady. The people of Carvahall have endured much and they don't need any more strife. We are the future of Alagaesia. Just as Eragon has, we can prove that just because we are young, it does not mean that we do not matter. You also are proof of that, Lady."

Nasuada couldn't help but be slightly flattered. "Thank you, but I still believe you are on a suicide mission."

Tynan shrugged. "Then it is ours to undertake. May your sword stay sharp, Lady Nasuada."

"No, Tynan. May _yours._"

**PARAGRAPH**

Ashen was tired. She had tried everything – kicking, screaming, crying, fighting, escaping…none of it worked. She had been delivered food three times a day by a maid around her age whose name she did not know. The maid slipped in and out so quickly that Ashen hadn't time to escape. Sometimes she'd eat what she was given. Other times she would sulk and leave the tray where it was.

The night after she'd tried to escape from her room, Murtagh paid her a visit. She looked up as he crossed over to her, a slight smirk on his face as he observed her.

"I hear you haven't been eating."

Ashen shrugged and turned away from him. She didn't need to speak to him. Murtagh, however, wasn't pleased at being ignored. He frowned and grabbed Ashen by the arm, tugging her to her feet. When she still looked at the ground, he gripped her by the chin and forced her to look at him.

"Am I that despicable?" he seethed, "Why can't you even look at me?"

Ashen swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Because I pity you," she whispered.

Murtagh blinked. Whatever he'd been expecting, it hadn't been that. Hate, anger…probably. Not sympathy or pity. Somehow that only made him irritated. Ashen's rage he could take. Her pity was something he didn't know what to do with. His eyes flashed and he frowned as he pushed her away from him.

"You don't need to pity me," he told her harshly, "I do that well enough myself."

Murtagh turned away from her and Ashen wondered if he was going to leave, before he whipped back around to face her. The darkness still lingered in his eyes, but it was receding. Clearly, Murtagh was not the kind who appreciated the pity of others.

"If you're going to be staying in Uru'baen, you might as well see a little of it. You need to know that this isn't your lovely Surda. It's not a place you will like…but it's about time you faced reality: you're not with the Varden anymore."

Ashen's heart thumped in her chest. Murtagh would let her out of her room? So far, she didn't seem like much a prisoner. She tilted her head to the side.

"You'd let me out?"

Murtagh clenched his jaw. "I would have to be watching you, of course. Besides, you know what will happen if you decide to try and escape…"

Ashen had already condemned herself to Uru'baen. She had tried escaping and was fortunate to have been caught by Murtagh. If it had been anyone else…she shuddered to think what might have happened. She allowed herself a small smile, but Murtagh's expression remained impassive. Ashen wondered if he ever really smiled.

"Aye. I understand."

Murtagh nodded approvingly. "Good. In that case…" He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, closer than Ashen was comfortable with. He smiled bleakly at the astonishment that flashed in her eyes. "Let me show you around the place you will be staying for the next few months. You aren't going to like it."


	8. Sinister Intentions

**CHAPTER EIGHT: Sinister Intentions**

"_Don't say you love me, I don't believe it_

_Don't say the words if you don't mean it."_

_- If You Don't Mean It, Dean Geyer_

They'd been too wary to light a fire, just in case anyone saw them. Brynja shivered in the darkness, drawing her cloak tighter around herself. She hadn't exactly chosen this – Angela had told her about her confrontation with a Shade, although she hadn't known what the verdict would be. This left Brynja uncertain and full of dread. Fighting a Shade…she hadn't been with the Varden when Durza had wreaked havoc upon Farthen Dur, but she'd heard what Tynan had said and that had been enough to convince her.

Mordecai was allegedly young for a Shade. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, or so the reports said. Brynja wondered how long he'd actually been a Shade. Had he been around since Durza's time, hiding himself? She doubted it.

"Tynan," she whispered through the darkness, "How are we going to go about this? It's the three of us against a Shade. I know this is what we're fated for…but can we survive?"

"I hope so," Tynan muttered back. "We're strong, Brynja. Stronger than we even know."

Right now, Brynja didn't feel strong. She had faced a lot in her time, but fighting a Shade was beyond anything she'd ever tried to accomplish. She felt like a fool. She knew how brash and reckless they must seem to Nasuada and the rest of the Varden. The Shade was apparently moving north-east towards Uru'baen, where there was no doubt in Brynja's mind that he would unite with Galbatorix. That was just what they _didn't _need. From there, the Shade Mordecai would most likely be sent to the Varden to attack them.

"I'm still not sure we can do this," Brynja was almost inaudible so that their youngest companion, Nolfavrell, would not hear her.

"Would you rather he attacks us first?" demanded Tynan. "This will not be what Mordecai expects. He would think us all to tremble in fear of his presence. We must prove that we are not daunted."

Brynja nodded mutely, not knowing what to say. Tynan was right, of course. Too long had they lived in fear of the Empire. Now it was time to strike back.

**PARAGRAPH**

Ashen looked upon Uru'baen itself with disdain. It was a bleak place and she later regretted that she'd asked Murtagh to show her everything. He'd taken her past the dungeons and she'd heard the prisoners' screams. Her face had paled and she'd staggered backwards. Murtagh had clenched his jaw and tugged at her arm, pulling away from that terrible place.

From there, he decided it was best to show her some of the nicer sights that Uru'baen had to offer…few as they may be. He led her down to the little courtyard outside his room. It was small and hardly used, but from the look of wonder on Ashen's face, it might have been a huge garden.

"I didn't know Uru'baen had any plants," she confessed quietly.

Murtagh released his grip on her arm. Ashen moved around the courtyard, observing her surroundings with interest. Murtagh gave a tight smile as he noticed how entranced she was. Maybe he might let her stay here, watch from his room. After all, he knew he needed to get ready for dinner with the king and his courtiers – Galbatorix loved showing off his pet Rider – and he knew Ashen was too smart to escape. She knew the consequences.

"Do you think you could stay here for ten minutes?" he asked of her, narrowing his eyes so she knew he was serious. "I'm expected for dinner with the king and I need to get changed. You understand 'stay here', don't you?"

Ashen rolled her eyes. "I could stay here for hours."

Murtagh moved up to his room. If Galbatorix knew he'd left Ashen alone, he would be furious. But Murtagh had known Ashen before. She knew there was nowhere left to run. She knew what it would cost her to try.

_Thorn. Could you just…keep an eye on her for a moment?_

_I'll keep two on her, if that would help._

Murtagh hurried changing into his good clothes, unwilling to leave Ashen alone for too long despite the fact that he didn't think she'd escape. If someone loyal to Galbatorix found her there alone…

_Murtagh. You may want to see this._

Murtagh was just pulling on his good boots when he moved over the window and looked out into the courtyard. He cursed angrily. Just when he'd been thinking about not letting Ashen be found by loyalists, Zander crossed the courtyard towards her with a smirk on his face and a sinister gleam in his eyes.

Murtagh marched determinedly down the corridor, back down into the courtyard. By the time he'd marched through the archway, Zander had reached Ashen and was talking to her. There was a look on his face that Murtagh didn't like, the way his eyes roved up and down her, seemed to bore through her.

"Zander." Murtagh nearly snarled the word.

The magician turned away from Ashen, facing Murtagh with a calm smile plastered across his face.

"Murtagh. I should have known you wouldn't have left this lovely young woman alone." Zander's voice was dripping with sarcasm as he turned back to face Ashen, whose eyes were wide with apprehension. Clearly she could see just how dangerous Zander really was. "What was your name again?"

Murtagh's hands clenched into fists as Zander smiled across at Ashen. This couldn't bode well. If Ashen knew Zander's name, chances were she remembered what Murtagh had told her about Zander asking for her.

"My name is Ashen." Her voice was strong despite the trepidation in her eyes.

Zander faced Murtagh. "Does Galbatorix know you're letting your prisoner wander around Uru'baen unsupervised?"

His tone was mocking and Murtagh ground his teeth, wanting nothing more than to punch the arrogant man in the face.

_Careful,_ Thorn warned, _You know he's dangerous._

"Leave her alone," Murtagh's tone was low, "If you come near her again…"

Zander grinned. "You are quite protective of her, Murtagh. Do you fear that she'll meet the same end as her brother?"

Ashen gasped and her eyes hardened as she glared at Zander. The mention of Colton's death was clearly not something she appreciated. Murtagh could see the pain in her eyes. He immediately felt a surge of pity for her, which increased his hatred of Zander.

"You may want to keep an eye on her, Murtagh." Zander's tone held nothing but malevolent amusement. "Otherwise Galbatorix may have her reassigned."

Murtagh knew the implications, saw the trouble flickering in Zander's cold green eyes. He grabbed Ashen's arm and pulled her after him. She didn't resist.

"Stay away from her. She's not your prisoner and not your concern." Murtagh snapped.

He steered Ashen out of the courtyard and back towards her quarters. Ashen grimaced at the bruising grip on her arm and when they reached her room, Murtagh grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

"You are not to speak with him. Do you understand me, Ashen?"

Ashen had heard about Zander and although he didn't seem too intimidating in person, there had been something about his eyes. Green, cruel, empty. Eyes of evil. She didn't understand why Murtagh was so urgent about the whole matter though. He was a Rider, Galbatorix's right-hand man.

"Aye," Ashen pulled her arm from his grasp, seeing evidence of bruises in the form of finger marks.

"He is dangerous." Murtagh sounded annoyed, as though she wasn't really paying attention.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. "So are you."

Murtagh couldn't argue with that. Instead he just frowned and opened the door, pushing Ashen into her room. When he closed the door, Ashen ruminated on what had happened. Zander disturbed Murtagh's calm. There was something about that magician that seemed to affect everyone. Ashen couldn't believe he'd mentioned Colton. How did he know?

**PARAGRAPH**

"_Stenr risa._"

Tristan felt a surge of elation as the stone rose three feet off the ground. He turned to grin at Delia, and immediately lost concentration. The stone clattered to the ground as Fafnir snorted in amusement.

_What? _

_You need to focus on your training rather than your teacher, Tristan._

Tristan felt his cheeks heating up and knew he must be turning red as he crossed to retrieve the rock from the ground. Delia was observing him dispassionately, her arms folded across her chest.

"Focus, Tristan. Using magic will drain the energy from you – I will teach you how to draw it from your surroundings, but that will not be for some time yet. For now, you need to focus your entire being on that stone. Try again."

Tristan heaved a sigh and set the stone in front of him, his blue eyes narrowing as he focused his energy on it. The magic was starting to tire him out and he was surprised that such a small amount could leave him so drained. He'd seen the things Eragon had accomplished, and now he wondered how he'd done it.

_Our strength will grow in time, Tristan. At least you are of full size._

Tristan smiled down at Fafnir. The green dragon was only up to his stomach.

_One day, we'll both be unstoppable._

_Yes. But for now, focus on that stone. Delia grows impatient._

"_Stenr risa._"

The stone rose again and Tristan managed to keep it there for a good twenty seconds before his strength drained from him and he dropped it with a hoarse gasp. Delia nodded approvingly.

"Good. You are improving. There is, however, one other issue – I have been reliably informed that your ability lies in the field of archery?"

Tristan nodded slowly. "Aye."

Delia smiled slowly. "Well, Riders are renowned for their skill with a blade. Therefore, I think tomorrow, we'll have to start you on some sword fighting training to do with your other training."

Tristan couldn't help but unleash a groan.

**PARAGRAPH**

Ashen found herself starting to feel sorry for Murtagh, no matter how much she might want to despise him for holding her prisoner. Sometimes he'd come to her and it would have been so obvious that he'd been tortured – although for what, Ashen didn't dare to ask. He came to her room at dusk about a month after he'd captured her.

Murtagh ran a hand through his dark hair, looking troubled. Ashen wanted to ask what the matter was, except she knew it probably wasn't any of her concern. The expression on his face was grim, but he forced a smile.

"Come with me. There's someone I want you to meet."

Ashen felt herself panicking. She shook her head and staggered backwards. There was no doubt in her mind that the person Murtagh was talking about was Galbatorix.

"I won't go to him!"

Something hard flashed in Murtagh's eyes and he stepped forward.

"You'll do what's expected of you, Ashen."

Ashen expected him to grab her by the arm, but instead his hand clutched at hers. A sudden shiver ran up her spine, a good kind. Holding Murtagh's hand was somehow more intimate, although he appeared not to notice.

As he led her down the corridors – most of which were deserted – Ashen started to let relief overcome her. It was clear they weren't going to see Galbatorix. So just who were they going to meet? Ashen didn't know whether she should be apprehensive or not. Finally they exited the maze of corridors that was the palace of Uru'baen and entered the biggest courtyard Ashen had ever seen. In the middle of the courtyard stood a mighty red dragon.

Ashen gasped aloud and Murtagh released her hand. This must be Thorn, Murtagh's dragon. He looked down at her with vivid red eyes, but she was unafraid. She moved towards Thorn, spellbound.

_Greetings, Ashen._

Ashen felt the need to curtsy before the dragon. She hadn't failed to notice that several dresses had been hung up in the wardrobe in her room. They were all plain, but nice nevertheless.

"Greetings, Thorn. It's an honour to meet you."

Subconsciously, Ashen wondered what had brought Murtagh to show her his dragon. Somehow she doubted Galbatorix would approve of this. Murtagh already treated her too much like a guest, rather than the prisoner she really was. She glanced across at him, but he refused to meet her gaze.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, a note of suspicion entering her tone. Did this have something to do with Tristan and Fafnir, something beyond her understanding? What were the motives that lingered beneath the surface?

Murtagh clenched his jaw and didn't look at her. "Galbatorix is not pleased. A month has passed since you have been in Uru'baen and there has been no sign of your brother. He believes that either Tristan does not know you have been captured, or more likely, he does nothing because he has been instructed not to. Galbatorix believes he may need more persuasion to come to your aid."

Ashen understood the implications immediately and her heart starting hammering in her chest. So she would meet the same end as her brother, Colton. She shook her head, taking a step back. Murtagh had shown her Thorn because he knew what she must yet endure.

"No," she whispered.

"I'm sorry, Ashen." Murtagh sounded impassive. "He has not ordered me specifically yet, but I know that it's only a matter of time."

Murtagh sounded haunted and that was only reflected in his grey eyes when he looked at her. There was something devastated there and Ashen pitied him as much as she held fear for herself…and Tristan. Because that was what all of this was about: luring her brother to Uru'baen.

"We were friends once," Ashen murmured, "What seems like a long time ago now. In the battle under Farthen Dur…you saved my life. Now it's just…destroyed. Our friendship's gone now. Whatever we had…it's dust."

Murtagh shook his head vehemently, refusing to accept that.

"Ashen, I…you were the only one who understood me. You accepted me despite the fact that I was Morzan's son. It's too late to bring back what we had. I only wish I had told you everything earlier…"

Ashen frowned, not comprehending. "Told me what?"

Murtagh didn't answer with words. Instead he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her intensely. Ashen was taken aback, but she didn't pull away, not at first. Murtagh snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her in tight so that she was pressed against his chest. There was a fierce longing in Murtagh's kiss, and despite how much she wished her feelings for him had gone, Ashen found that in that kiss, she knew she still loved him.

"That was how I felt," Murtagh told her, his voice husky, "How I still feel. Only…it is wrong. It can never be."


	9. Shattered

**CHAPTER NINE: Shattered**

"_And I've lost who I am_

_And I can't understand_

_Why my heart is so broken_

_Rejecting your love."_

_- Shattered, Trading Yesterday_

They encountered Mordecai closer to Uru'baen than any of them would have liked. The Shade was travelling on foot, which surprised them. All three were full of fear as they recognised the short crimson hair and malicious maroon eyes of the figure approaching them. Brynja nocked an arrow and Nolfavrell's eyes were gleaming as he drew his sword.

Mordecai ran his cruel eyes over the three of them and chuckled darkly.

"So. The Varden sends children to attack me? How pathetic."

Tynan's eyes narrowed. "We are not children." He made no attempt to stand down and the Shade observed him, his smile fading.

"So be it," he hissed, "_Garjzla_."

The red light streaked towards Tynan, but he raised a hand and barked something in the ancient language, so that it stopped even before it struck him. Brynja took the opportunity to fire an arrow at the Shade, but he waved his hand lazily and the arrow vanished as if it had been nothing.

Brynja had never thought this to be a clever idea, but as she nocked an arrow, she was beginning to agree with Lady Nasuada's declaration that their mission was suicide. Mordecai drew a curved sword from the sheath that hung at his hip and advanced on them slowly, already savouring his victory. All three teenagers observed him with dread in their eyes.

Tynan didn't exactly know if they could kill the Shade, but he knew of people who'd fought Shades and managed to live. The last Rider's sister, Ashen…she'd fought Durza under Farthen Dur. It was true that she'd only survived due to the intervention of another, but that wasn't the point. She'd held out. So could they.

"_Malthinae_," called Tynan, raising his hand and curling his fingers. The Shade sneered and struggled, but couldn't manage to escape. However, the young magician's strength was waning fast, despite his experience. Tynan whipped around to face Nolfavrell.

"Go!"

Nolfavrell hurried forward, clenching his sword so tight that his knuckles had turned white. There was a determined gleam in his eyes as he stabbed forward, right at the Shade's heart. By this time, however, Mordecai had managed to break free of Tynan's confines. He lunged forward with a snarl, stabbing Nolfavrell through the stomach.

"No!" screamed Brynja, putting away her bow and arrows and unsheathing her own sword. She charged towards Mordecai, blinded by anger and hatred. Tynan realised that she would be killed and he acted.

"_Skolir_!"

Mordecai slashed at Brynja, but because of Tynan's words, his sword seemed to bounce off thin air. Brynja took a few staggering steps backwards, realising what had nearly happened. She looked back at Tynan, who knew he had to make a choice. He had the ability to heal Nolfavrell – but doing so would weaken him greatly and leave him unable to defend Brynja. He had to make a decision. He pressed his lips together in a hard line as he knelt by Nolfavrell's side.

"_Waise heill_."

**PARAGRAPH**

Ashen had been lost and confused since the evening Murtagh kissed her. He had practically confessed that he was just as in love with her as she was with him. She felt the tears streaming down her cheeks, but they weren't the tears she'd cried before. Once, it had been misery and frustration at being a captive in Uru'baen. Now, however…she cried because of things that had been, things that were and things that never would be.

Murtagh was right. Oh, how their love was wrong. He was an unwilling servant of Galbatorix, she was a warrior of the Varden…his prisoner. Why were things so muddled? Why couldn't it be simple? She wiped fiercely at her tears. If only she'd fallen hopelessly in love with Eragon. Things would have been a lot less complicated then.

Her door opened and she sat up. Murtagh stood in the doorway, but he wasn't the imposing figure she'd always seen. His shoulders had slumped and he looked defeated. There were dark circles around his eyes.

"Is it time?" she asked, fearing the worst.

Murtagh shook his head slowly. "I just wanted to talk to you. To apologise for the other night. I shouldn't have kissed you."

Ashen's eyes widened. "Do you regret it?"

Murtagh tensed. "No. That's the worst part. I should."

Ashen placed a hand on his shoulder, but Murtagh jerked away. He saw the hurt in her eyes and sighed, allowing his dark hair to flop in his face. Ashen drew her hand away, feeling rejected.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, "I just…I don't deserve your sympathy, Ashen. You have said it yourself. The things that I've done…they're despicable and I know it. You have more right than anyone to hate me. I brought you to Uru'baen. Yet you don't. You're just the same as when I met you. You shrug off the pain and move on."

Ashen didn't know what to say. She'd been trying so hard to put aside her pain of losing Colton, the worst pain of all. It was as though a part of her was missing and although it didn't hurt so much anymore, it would never come back to her.

Yet when it came to other things, Murtagh was right. She was willing to push aside judgments and accept people for who they were, not look at them based on the reputation that preceded them.

"I want to show you something." Murtagh's tone was quiet, but full of emotion. He pulled his shirt up and over his head. Ashen admired his well-toned, muscular chest and arms for a moment, before and realising that wasn't what Murtagh had wanted to show her. He turned around slowly and Ashen couldn't quite restrain a gasp at the horrible scar that ran down his back.

"What happened?" she asked, torn between reaching out and touching it and leaving him alone. Touching the horrible, puckered scar won.

"My father," Murtagh's tone was shaking with anger, "When I was three years old, he threw his sword at me in a drunken rage as I passed him by. This is the result of his temper."

Ashen moved towards him, tentatively. For Murtagh, it was more than hating what he'd become. Whenever Ashen touched him, he remembered kissing her, he wanted to do it again… He frowned. Galbatorix and Zander would love that, knowing that Murtagh was in love with his prisoner. He was becoming addicted to Ashen and it was not good for him.

Her gaze was solemn as she reached up and touched his cheek, seeing the pain in his eyes. Murtagh flinched as if she might slap him, but then he saw the sympathy in Ashen's eyes, the hurt that told him she cared about him. He didn't want to see that hurt in her eyes. But more than that was the knowledge that Ashen now understood him. This was better than just pity.

Before he even knew what he was doing, he was running his hands through Ashen's hair and kissing her fiercely. Part of him cried out that this was wrong, that he was only getting into a bigger mess…but he chose to ignore that part.

Ashen found herself pushed back into the wall, pressed between it and Murtagh. One of his hands was still twining through her hair while the other held her around the waist. Murtagh groaned and pulled her closer so that she was pressed against his bare chest and Ashen sucked in her breath as his lips trailed down her neck.

Then Ashen came to her senses, remembering where she was and exactly whom she was kissing. She twisted in Murtagh's grip, pushing him hard in the chest so he was forced to release her. He could have held onto her if he'd wanted to, but he sensed her confusion and let her go.

"I can't," she whispered, turning away from him.

Murtagh felt as though he'd been slapped across the face, but he nodded. Ashen was right. He sighed heavily and Ashen observed him with a distressed look on her face. Murtagh pulled his shirt back over his head.

"Galbatorix has sent me out for a few days," he admitted, looking across at Ashen to see her reaction. "Maybe during that time we can sort ourselves out."

Ashen nodded and, to Murtagh's surprise, embraced him. He put his arms around her too, although for some reason it felt slightly awkward.

"It's not too late to change," she whispered. When they broke apart she offered him a small, sad smile. Murtagh wanted to tell her that it _was_ too late, but then he thought on what Eragon had told him. Changing his nature meant changing his true name. What if falling in love with Ashen could free him?

**PARAGRAPH**

Tristan was pleased with his progress. It had been two months since he'd left the Varden to train with Delia. Fafnir was now big enough for Tristan to ride – which he spent every free moment doing. Delia didn't discourage this; the bond between Tristan and Fafnir was still new and would be forged through time, battles and experiences. She knew this because it had been the same with her and Aziza.

_We grow powerful, Tristan_. Fafnir lay down beside his Rider contentedly after an afternoon of flying.

Tristan knew he still had a lot to learn. He knew a lot about magic now and he was improving when it came to sword fighting – but that had always been more Ashen's talent than his. Delia had taught him how to draw on his surroundings to give him energy. Tristan was learning a lot every day, but he knew his training would be rushed. They didn't have the time to give him the years that Riders would once have had.

Delia. That was another issue complicating Tristan's training. He found the young elf attractive and although he tried not to be, he was sometimes distracted by her. It was disturbing to think that despite the fact that she only looked Ashen's age, she was old enough to be his great-grandmother.

_Stop thinking about her, _Fafnir chastised. _You must focus on your training now. Romantic relationships can be pursued._

Tristan snorted. _She wouldn't have me anyway._

He began to realise he'd got himself into a similar predicament to Eragon. There was a smaller age gap between Tristan and Delia – but it was still large enough that she would consider him to be a child. He sighed heavily and tried to banish his romantic notions of his teacher. It was stupid, really.

_Now is not the time to focus on such matters. You should be thinking about how to defeat Galbatorix, not whether Delia feels the same way you do about her._

_Besides, it's most likely an infatuation, _Tristan dismissed it as adolescent hormones, _I've thought I had feelings for Nasuada as well at one stage. You're right, Fafnir. It's not what matters now._

That wasn't Tristan's only issue. He had been having nightmares of late. A man with a youthful face but silver-white hair, laughing manically as a city burned. A Shade with maroon eyes that glittered with malice. Murtagh on Thorn's back, Zar'roc raised high above his head. Ashen on Fafnir's back, wielding a green-bladed sword.

Tristan thought his dreams were ridiculous and couldn't possibly be true. After all, why would they depict Ashen as being Fafnir's Rider? Fafnir thought there was something of the truth in these dreams, although even he doubted the one about Ashen riding on his back.

_Your sister is a wonderful person, Tristan, _Fafnir had told him, _But it is you who is my Rider._

Delia had presented him with the green sword, which was how Tristan had recognised it in his dream. Apparently, it had once belonged to another Rider of a green dragon. At first, Tristan had refused vehemently, but Delia had insisted that it belonged to him now and the family of the deceased Rider were honoured to give up the sword to a new Rider.

"It is called Sundavar," she told him, as Tristan had admired the green-bladed sword with wonder in his eyes, "It means 'shadows' in the ancient language."

Brisingr, Zar'roc, Sundavar…powerful swords with powerful names.

_Fafnir? Do you think I am capable of defeating at least Murtagh?_

Fafnir was quiet for a few moments.

_Not yet, _he finally said, _but soon. _

None of the nightmares mattered now. There was a smile on Tristan's face as he finally drifted off to sleep.


	10. I Will Break You

**CHAPTER TEN: I Will Break You**

"_For what you did, I will break you_

_Cry for help now, they can't hear you._

_Here's an offer you can't refuse._

_Scream a little bit louder for me, baby."_

_- Loose Lips Sink Ships, A Change of Pace_

In the days of Murtagh's absence, Ashen was alone. A servant would bring up her food and some clean water for her to bathe with. The door started to open and Ashen jumped up, hope and trepidation knotting her stomach. Murtagh was back, but she wasn't sure what sort of mood he would be in, if he'd finally been sent to bring her to her doom.

Except when the door opened, Ashen felt all the emotions drain from her until all that was left was pure, cold dread. It wasn't Murtagh standing in the doorway. Zander strutted across the room and suddenly Ashen felt as though she couldn't breathe. She knew why Zander was here, why he just happened to come when Murtagh wasn't in Uru'baen. She tried to conceal her fear, just as Colton must have done when he'd been confronted by Durza.

Be strong, Ashen, she told herself sternly; strong and brave like your brother.

Zander smiled as he turned and muttered something. The lock on the outside of the door slid closed and Ashen felt overcome by her trepidation. She clenched her hands into fists and watched as Zander advanced on her, tilting his head to the side and observing her casually.

"I know why you have come," Ashen said in a hard voice, sounding much more confident than she felt.

Zander just shrugged. "Murtagh has been neglecting his duties and the king has noticed. He has realised the young Rider has a soft spot for you and so you have been put under my watch instead."

Ashen edged towards the washbasin. She had an idea and although she doubted it would work, it was her only option. As Zander continued to walk towards her, clearly relishing her horror, she felt her back hit the basin. Ashen moved fast, smashing her fist into the mirror above the washbasin. Stinging pain erupted in her hand, but she didn't care. She snatched up the biggest shard of glass she could and charged towards Zander, just managing to stab him in the arm.

Zander hissed in pain as Ashen raced towards the door, struggling with the handle, rattling it with all her strength and stupidly hoping that the lock on the other side might give way. She felt as though she'd stopped breathing.

Zander grabbed her and threw her to the ground so hard that Ashen's head bounced off the stone. The magician stood over her with a twisted smile on his face and the bloody glass shard clenched in his hand – although whether it was her blood or his own, Ashen couldn't tell. Nevertheless, she was sickened when he licked the blood off the glass and laughed mirthlessly.

Ashen was terrified of this violent, insane man. She kicked out with all her might, knocking Zander over so that he fell to the ground with a grunt. It didn't even feel like the tears streaming down her face were hers, didn't sound like the choked sob that emitted from her mouth belonged to her.

She was going to die just the same way Colton had.

"Such a shame," Zander mocked, kicking Ashen brutally in the ribs. She curled into a protective ball. "You always seemed like you had such spirit. Yet now you crawl at my feet like the little girl you really are."

Ashen shouted curses at him and spat at his feet. Something dark flashed through Zander's face and he raised a fist and struck her across the face. Ashen welcomed the darkness.

**PARAGRAPH**

Lady Nasuada was surprised when Nolfavrell, Brynja and Tynan returned to Surda, shaken but alive. She glanced at all three of them with shock evident in her dark eyes.

"You killed the Shade?"

Brynja shook her head slowly, sighing. "I shot an arrow into his head. Nolfavrell was injured…there wasn't much we could do."

Nasuada nodded. So not only were they up against Galbatorix and Murtagh, but a Shade as well. It had been bad enough when Durza had led the attack on Farthen Dur. Nolfavrell lifted up his shirt to reveal a scar on his stomach, white against the rest of his skin.

"Mordecai stabbed me. If not for Tynan, I probably would have died."

Nasuada wanted to be pleased that the teenagers were alive, wanted to focus on that, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Ashen had been missing for over two months now and none of them knew what might be happening to her in Uru'baen. Tristan still didn't know and although Nasuada did not want to interrupt his training, she did not wish to face the wrath of a Rider when he discovered the secret they'd kept from him.

The only problem was, no one knew exactly where Tristan was. Du Weldenvarden was vast. Her only option was getting a magician to scry him and pass on the message that Ashen had been captured by Murtagh.

"Tynan. There is something I must ask of you."

The young magician stepped forward. "Yes, my Lady?"

"You must scry Tristan," Nasuada rubbed her temples like she was tired, "You must inform him that his sister has been captured by Murtagh and is being held prisoner in Uru'baen. However, you must impress upon him the importance that he continues training."

Tynan gulped and nodded. He didn't really want to see the rage of a Rider, but he had little choice. He had his orders and he could only comply with them. As a member of the Du Vrangr Gata, it was only right that he did what Nasuada asked. If he could fight a Shade, then he could bear witness to Tristan's fury.

**PARAGRAPH**

Delia was shocked when she found that Tristan was saddling Fafnir. She hurried across towards him and glanced around at the remnants of his anger. Already, Tristan was beginning to show signs of the elfin strength that came with being a Rider – branches had been broken and were scattered precariously around the tree house the human boy shared with his dragon. She hoped nothing inside was broken.

"Tristan?" she asked, sensing the rage that radiated off the young Rider. When he whirled around to face her, his teeth were bared and his sapphire blue eyes were burning with incandescent fury. "What is the matter?"

"So you do not know?" snapped Tristan.

Delia didn't think she had ever seen him in such a state. Tristan was normally calm and relaxed. Even when he was frustrated after a hard day's work, he was never in such a state. It must have been something massive to bring about this kind of behaviour. Delia shook her head fervently.

"I do not know of what you speak, Tristan."

Tristan jabbed a finger in a seemingly random direction, grinding his teeth.

"Murtagh has captured my sister and brought her to Uru'baen," he hissed, his hands clenching into fists of anger, "She has been there for two months and only now has the Varden deemed it fit to tell me this."

Delia vaguely remembered Tristan's sister, a pretty blonde girl of around sixteen. She sighed heavily, feeling sorry for him but at the same time knowing what she must say to him. His training was more important than rescuing his sister, as harsh as that might sound.

"Tristan, you need to calm yourself."

"She has probably been tortured!" shouted Tristan, apoplectic, "I will not leave my sister to die!"

He marched towards Delia, his eyes sparkling with ferocity and fear for Ashen.

"Do you know how my brother died?" he demanded of the elf. "No. I don't think you even knew that I had a brother. He was tortured to death by the Shade Durza after he assisted in the ferrying of Saphira's egg. I will not let Ashen suffer the same fate."

He made to mount Fafnir as Delia marched determinedly after him. She had suffered her fair share of pain in her time. Oromis had been killed over Gil'ead and she had not been able to prevent it – because then Galbatorix would have learned about her existence. Sometimes sacrifices needed to be made. Tristan needed to understand that.

"Do you not understand?" Delia vented, her violet eyes narrowing as she planted her hands on her narrow hips. "This is precisely what Galbatorix wants, Tristan. It is why Ashen was captured in the first place. They rely on your sense of vengeance. Your brother was killed and they know you will fear for your sister. You will only be murdered or enslaved. Please, listen to reason. You are not strong enough for this. Not yet."

_Her words are wise, Tristan. You should listen._

_Stay out of this, Fafnir!_

Tristan thought about it for a moment or two, before he reluctantly slid off Fafnir's back. Delia was right, unfortunately. Saving Ashen would only lead to trouble for him and Fafnir. The last thing they needed was Galbatorix gaining another Rider. Besides, Galbatorix needed Ashen as leverage. If he killed her, he would have nothing with which to lure Tristan in.

"Thank you." Delia's voice was soft now and she offered Tristan a grim smile. "Trust me when I say that I understand how much it must hurt. Oromis was a dear friend to me and I could not avenge him. Sometimes it is the end that justifies the means."

**PARAGRAPH**

Ashen woke with a throbbing head. Her hands were suspended above her head and when she moved them, she heard the clinking of chains and felt the metal biting into her wrists. Ashen swallowed the lump in her throat. She was in the dungeons, there was no doubting that. The wall felt damp behind her back and she struggled wildly, feeling claustrophobic.

"There is no use in doing that." Zander strode across the cell towards her and Ashen watched him suspiciously. "We wouldn't want you to get damaged before the interrogation has even started, now would we?"

"Heartless pig," Ashen shot at him.

Zander sighed as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders and held up his hand threateningly. Ashen had no doubt that he would use magic on her, but she just stared brazenly back at him. She needed to be strong now. It was what her brothers – both Colton and Tristan – would want of her.

"It is quite simple." Zander's tone was business-like, as if they were having a proper conversation and she was not chained to the wall. "I only need to know one thing: where your brother and his dragon are. That's it."

A mocking smile crossed Ashen's lips. "You think I will tell you?"

Zander grinned, baring pointed white teeth. "Not willing. But I will make you scream, Ashen. You will tell me just to end the misery, the pain."

Ashen bared her teeth. "Don't act as though you know me."

Zander just observed her in that cold, calculating way of his. There was nothing in those horrible green eyes of his. He was too cruel to be human. How could someone be so empty?

"One location. That's all I ask of you."

Ashen shook her head vigorously. "I will never tell you."

The corners of Zander's lips tweaked into a smile as he quite calmly said: "_Jierda_."

There was a noise like a carrot snapping and suddenly white-hot pain ripped through her wrist. She bit her lip so hard that she could taste blood. She did not want to give Zander the satisfaction of hearing her scream, but she couldn't help it. She writhed against the chains that bound her. Through the haze of her pain, all she could see was those merciless green eyes.

"This must have been how it was for your brother," Zander commented dispassionately, observing Ashen as though she was a cockroach, "Screaming, probably begging for mercy by the end. I hear that Shades are quite creative in their torture methods. I doubt he would have lasted a week."

Loathing tore through Ashen, even sharper than the pain she'd just experienced. She gritted her teeth and ignored the pain in her left wrist as she strained against the manacles binding her to the wall. She lifted her legs up and kicked Zander as hard as she could.

Zander's eyes narrowed and he used his booted foot to press Ashen's injured wrist against the wall…hard. She cried out in pain and he removed his boot. Zander then reached into his pocket and drew out a small red bottle, which he shook with a ruthless smile.

"Do you know what this is, Ashen?"

She remained silent. She had a vague idea.

"This is Seithr oil – the dangerous kind. The king has given me permission to use this on you if need be."

Ashen still didn't say anything. Zander watched her like a hawk observing its prey. He was waiting for a reaction, a hint of fear flashing through her eyes. He was slightly frustrated when he saw nothing.

"Do you want me to ruin your pretty face with this?" Zander taunted, waving the red bottle in front of Ashen. When she didn't reply he crouched down and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head back so that she was looking at him. There were tears in her eyes and trailing down her cheeks, yet she still said nothing.

Zander shrugged as he started to unscrew the lid.


	11. I Don't Want To Be Afraid

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: I Don't Want To Be Afraid**

"_I feel alone here and cold here_

_Oh, I don't want to die."_

_- Cut, Plumb_

The first thing Murtagh did when he returned to Uru'baen was go to see Ashen. His mission for Galbatorix had, of course, involved Varden bloodshed. He'd been commanded to slay some stray rebels who had been moving towards Gil'ead. He was in a dark mood and all he could think about was talking to Ashen to keep his mind off the matter.

However, when he went to her room, it was empty. He stood in the doorway and wondered what had happened. She couldn't possibly have escaped. Ashen was smart, but she wasn't suicidal. Footsteps clacked down the hallway and Murtagh turned to see Zander walking towards him.

"Looking for someone?"

Everything added up in that moment. Murtagh took one look at Zander's smirk and knew he was responsible for this. Before the magician even knew what was happening, Murtagh had grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. His feet dangled at least a foot from the ground. Zander choked and clawed at the Rider's hand, but out of the two of them, Murtagh was much physically stronger.

"Where is she?" he snarled. "If you have even _touched_ her…"

Zander laughed hoarsely.

"Kill me then, Murtagh." He rasped. "Everything I did to her, I did with the king's permission. It would seem I am not the only one who thinks that girl is making you soft."

Murtagh's grey eyes burned with hatred and anger. He didn't want to think about what Zander might have done to Ashen. He had been gone three days. Anything could have happened to her in that amount of time. His grasp tightened on Zander's throat.

"What have you done to her?" Murtagh snarled.

Zander didn't respond and Murtagh growled and threw him aside. The magician staggered, coughing. He glowered at the young Rider. That was the good thing about being so close to Galbatorix – if Murtagh went a step too far, Zander could always have his vengeance.

"She is following in her eldest brother's footsteps."

Murtagh was boiling over with rage. He thought he might explode. Thorn reached out to him, attempted to comfort him, but it made little difference. Murtagh had never wanted to kill someone – not even Galbatorix – as much as he wanted to kill Zander right now.

_Murtagh, getting angry is not going to solve anything._

_Well, what am I supposed to do, Thorn? You know well that Zander will eventually kill her. He's already tortured her. Am I supposed to sit by and let it happen?_

_For now, you have to calm down and think._

"If I were you, I would tread carefully, Rider." Zander's tone was low and dangerous. "Galbatorix is already beginning to doubt you. You would not like to pay another visit to the dungeons and share Ashen's fate, would you?"

Murtagh did not say anything. He would rather Zander tortured him rather than Ashen. The girl had done nothing to deserve this. Murtagh, on the other hand...he relished the power he wielded. He did not, however, revel in the destruction he caused. If any deserved to be tortured for what they had done, it would be him…except he knew Zander would only hurt Ashen out of spite if he knew the truth Murtagh's true feelings.

**PARAGRAPH**

Ashen did not know how long she had been imprisoned in the dungeons now. Days, weeks, months. It was all the same to her. Time trickled by slowly, excruciatingly so, especially when Zander was torturing her. Once he had reduced her to a bloody, sobbing mess, he would heal her. To Ashen, this was worse than just leaving her wounds to fester. It would only take longer for the pain to kill her this way. It would only hurt her even more.

She still ate, drank, bathed regularly. It was as if despite the torture he put her through, Zander was determined that she remained healthy. Ashen felt that it was some kind of sick joke at her expense. She had reached the bleak conclusion that she would never see the sun again.

When night fell, Zander would undo her shackles so that she could at least sleep, tormented as always by her nightmares. She did not try to run or escape. That would only mean more pain for her.

She did not hope for rescue. Murtagh was too far under the king's influence to save her and he was the only one in Uru'baen who actually would. None from the Varden would dare come to rescue her. She was fending for herself and somehow that made her stronger. It made her more determined to survive.

"Good afternoon," Zander's tone was pleasant as he entered the cell, as though they were about to have a friendly conversation. "I don't suppose you have considered my request?"

Ashen forced a smile. "I will never tell you where Tristan is."

Zander shrugged. "Not today, at least. Not without a little provocation."

The pain didn't make her scream anymore. It was beyond screaming. It hurt so much that she could not find the strength. Instead she just remained in silent agony, allowing it all to build up inside her. One day, if she survived, she would kill Zander for this.

Ashen did not know how much time had passed before it stopped and she tilted her head up to glare at Zander. Once she had believed that she would break under torture. Now she understood why people didn't – not necessarily out of courage, but out of understanding that there were more important things than their pain or death. She could only hope that Tristan would stay away from Uru'baen or else her efforts would have been for nothing.

"You are a fool," she rasped at him, "Just as Durza was a fool for thinking that Colton or Arya might have given in to him."

Zander responded only by unlocking the girl's manacles and pushing her roughly away from the wall to which she had been chained. Ashen fell heavily to her hands and knees as Zander strode from the cell, locking the door behind him. Ashen realised that the magician had not healed her wounds and wondered if he had simply forgotten or if he had done it deliberately as an act of cruelty (when in reality, Ashen saw it more as a mercy).

Two words came to her lips, unbidden. "_Waise heill._"

Ashen had not expected anything to actually happen. So she watched with numb disbelief when she found pinkish-red light winding forth from her hand and wrapping around her wounds. The strength began to drain from her like water cupped in her hands and she just managed to let go of the magic tying her down before her world went black.

**PARAGRAPH**

Tristan watched the sunrise with a hard expression on his face. Fafnir approached him, tilting his angular green head to the side and watching his conflicted young Rider. He could sense that Tristan wanted nothing more than to race off to Uru'baen and rescue Ashen. He could sense the frustration that poured from the young man.

_Fafnir, I am so confused._

He wanted to focus solely on his training. He knew how important it was, except it was difficult to concentrate now that he knew that Ashen was in Uru'baen, that she was probably suffering. It also made it hard to sleep at night.

_Young one, I know you dread what might be happening to Ashen, _Fafnir was sympathetic, _But you do not know what is happening. Most likely she is not being tortured, only Galbatorix wants you to think she is._

Delia stood at the foot of the tree house, Aziza by her side. There was a purple-bladed sword clutched in the elf's right hand. She had told Tristan its name: Evarinya, which meant 'stars' in the ancient language. Tristan clambered onto Fafnir's back and the green dragon flew down towards them.

As he got closer, Tristan realised that she wasn't alone. Another elf was with her. While Delia had never stated that the elves of Ellesmera didn't know about her, Tristan had always assumed only Islanzadi and Oromis had known of Delia and Aziza's existence. The elf with her was male, and looked to be around Tristan's age – although he guessed the elf was probably in his nineties.

"This is Vanir," Delia told Tristan. The way she then glanced at Vanir, a dazzling smile upon her face, made Tristan freeze. "He is a brilliant swordsman and will assist you in mastering the sword."

_She loves him._

Fafnir attempted to reassure Tristan. _They have a strong relationship but that does not mean she is in love with him. Elves are very different to humans, remember._

Vanir extended a hand to Tristan, either not noticing the stiff look that had come over the young Rider's face, or simply ignoring it. Tristan forced a smile as he shook Vanir's hand, scolding himself for being so immature.

"I hear that you are already proficient with Sundavar." Vanir's tone was polite and yet there was a faint hint of amusement there as well. "I would be honoured to cross blades with you, Rider."

_What do you think of him, Fafnir?_

_My opinion does not matter. You are supposed to duel him, not judge him._

Tristan reached for Sundavar as Delia took a few steps back, observing the Rider and the elf with the hint of a smile across her lips. Vanir drew his own sword and stepped towards Tristan, aiming a powerful blow at him that the young Rider only just managed to block. The elf was strong, very strong. Tristan had dueled Delia, but either she had been holding back, or Vanir was just a better swordsman.

After an exchange of blows, Tristan found himself holding up Sundavar in one hand, half-panting, half-laughing as he stepped back in surrender. Vanir observed him with a strange smile, tilting his head to the side.

"You are strong," he remarked, "You have been fighting for years, have you not?"

Tristan nodded. "I have been an archer for some time, but not a swordsman. That was always my sister and brother's area of expertise."

Vanir was clearly impressed. "I have fought Eragon Shadeslayer and he was a worthy opponent…but with all respect to him, you have more talent, I believe. It must run in your blood."

Tristan accepted Vanir's compliment with a smile, but he thought the elf may be wrong. Archery was more Tristan's field. He was only learning to use a sword, only possessed Sundavar, because it was what was expected of him. It was his responsibility as a Rider.

"Thank you, Vanir. I am honoured by your praise."

**PARAGRAPH**

Eragon felt elation rising within him. He had managed to accomplish a lot in the last two months or so since he had left the Varden. He knew his true name. He knew where the last free Eldunari were stored. Somehow, he didn't know if he wanted to use them, though. It would remind him too much of his doomed elder half-brother.

_What are we to do, Saphira?_

Saphira snuggled next to him, providing him with warmth. He nestled into her, sighing heavily.

_We must choose. Are we to become like Murtagh and Thorn? We must use whatever weapons we have, or we may not survive the upcoming battle._

There was a storm on the horizon. Eragon and Saphira could both feel it. The end of the Rider War was closing in on them. Eragon was immensely relieved that he was not the only Rider on the Varden's side, except he recognised the fact that Tristan and Fafnir were barely trained. Now considered a veteran Rider at sixteen years old, Eragon knew that the problem of defeating Galbatorix rested squarely on his shoulders.

_Do you really think that we are capable? _He asked of Saphira.

Saphira could feel Eragon's doubts because they were hers as well. They knew Murtagh and Thorn used Eldunari to increase their strength and power…but would they do the same in order to defeat Galbatorix? To Eragon, it seemed somehow wrong.

_We have come far, little one. We are strong._

Eragon was still concerned. What if Galbatorix managed to discover his true name? He remembered the anguish it had caused Sloan, discovering his name. Eragon had felt a race of different emotions, but dread more than anything. He didn't want anyone else but Saphira knowing.

They would return to Surda. Gil'ead and Feinster had been taken. Slowly but surely, they were beginning to take back what they had once possessed. The Varden had two Riders on their side – three, if you counted the dragon-less elfin Rider, Delia. Galbatorix only had Murtagh…but Murtagh was very powerful.

The question still lingered in the recesses of Eragon's mind: would they win this war?


	12. Think Twice

**CHAPTER TWELVE: Think Twice **

"_She spreads her love, she burns me out._

_I can't let go, I can't get out._

_I've said enough, enough by now_

_I can't let go, I can't get out."_

_- Think Twice, Eve 6_

Murtagh had to make a choice. Somewhere deep inside him, he always knew what the end result would be. He knew what the decision would be. He was an unwilling servant of a mad king. Why would he want to bow down to Galbatorix's wishes? Almost unconsciously, Murtagh found himself stalking down the empty corridors, moving down the stairs into the dungeons.

_Am I doing the right thing, Thorn?_ He asked in despair.

_Right in what regard? _Thorn replied cryptically. _Right is a matter of perspective. If you perceive 'right' as defying Galbatorix, then yes._

Murtagh's boots clacked down the steps and he grimaced at the noise as it echoed off the stone walls. He reached the locked door, but he needed no keys to get in. Leveling his hand with the knob, Murtagh muttered, "_Jierda._"

The door slammed open with a deafening report. Murtagh glanced around him and when no one came after a few moments, he descended into Hell. He'd been in the dungeons several times before – and he hadn't been visiting prisoners. The memories of this place were still fresh enough to make Murtagh push his mind away from the matter. He lifted his hood over his head, not wanting any of the prisoners to see who he was.

He paced past the cells, sickened by what he saw. Some of these people were half-dead. They gripped the bars with hope in their eyes, only to have that hope die once he passed them by. He pitied them as much as he pitied himself. They were prisoners of a dungeon, and he was a prisoner of his own mind.

Then he saw Ashen. She sat across the far side of the cell on the small cot, her knees drawn up under her chin. Her head was bowed and he expected her to be crying herself to sleep, as most of the prisoners did. Instead, he realised she was singing quietly to herself.

Murtagh was overcome by cold fear that clutched at his insides, knotting them together. No, not Ashen. The dreamy singing could be one of two things – either she was trying to shut away the pain, or she had already gone insane. Murtagh clutched at the bars, attempting to get a better look at her…except her long, lank blonde hair hung in front of her face, hiding her away.

"_Mor'amr_," he muttered, and the door to the cell screeched open. Ashen didn't seem to notice. He listened to her voice, eerily beautiful, haunted by it.

"Just one last dance, before we die…" Her words were almost whispered as Murtagh headed towards her, "I'll try my hardest not to cry…"

The words were vaguely familiar, though Murtagh had never heard Ashen sing before. Perhaps it was a poem that she had turned into a song? He crossed the room slowly, unwilling to admit that he was afraid of what he'd find in Ashen's eyes.

"I'll close my eyes, pretend it's real…maybe remember how to feel…"

Murtagh swallowed the hard lump in his throat, reaching over to touch the girl on the shoulder. This wasn't Ashen, the strong young woman he knew. This was only a shell. The girl whirled around at the contact, her dark blue eyes wild and scared.

"Ashen?" he inquired, uncertain.

She observed him with a slight frown. "Murtagh?"

As Murtagh looked critically over Ashen's slender form, he ground his teeth and clenched his hands into fists, feeling the strong desire to punch something. He was going to rip Zander apart.

_Murtagh, calm yourself._

_I am going to kill him. I'll rip him into little pieces and…_

_No. That is not calm. That is you deciding to act like a complete moron. If you do not desist, I will sit on you._

Murtagh did not want Ashen to feel as though he was invading her privacy, but he needed to see the extent of her injuries. Ashen's shirt was little more than tattered shreds and Murtagh felt his cheeks flaming.

Thorn sounded amused. _Why do your thoughts indicate that you are pleased with Ashen's body? I do not think you are taking this seriously._

_Shut up, Thorn!_ Murtagh snapped in response.

There were scars on Ashen's back when Murtagh looked more closely. He could see that she had been flayed with a whip…and had Seithr oil used on her. His lip curled in disgust. Zander truly was a mad, cruel individual. Ashen looked at Murtagh dispassionately, awaiting his verdict.

"Most of your wounds are healed." He sounded surprised.

A grim smile stretched across Ashen's lips. "Most of it was Zander. Except…I realised something, Murtagh. I can perform magic. I healed myself without meaning to. I…I didn't realise it consumed so much energy…"

Murtagh felt a wave of emotion for the girl and he leaned over and pressed his lips to her forehead. She had been through so much and yet she acted as though learning magic was the biggest challenge.

"I'm going to save you," he muttered.

Ashen drew back, shock gleaming in her eyes. "Galbatorix will kill you!"

Murtagh shook his head, a slightly smug look on his face. Galbatorix needed him and Thorn – for now. Besides, he knew that it would be dangerous for both himself and Ashen if he let her run from Uru'baen. That wasn't his intention. Instead he would take her somewhere she would be safe…but where?

_Any ideas, Thorn?_

_I do not know any better than you do._

Murtagh sighed and pulled off his shirt, offering it to Ashen. He didn't fail to notice how Ashen's eyes examined his chest.

"You seem to enjoy taking your shirt off when I am around," she said in a flat tone, "You tend to do it a lot."

She bit her lip, cheeks burning red as she accepted Murtagh's shirt and pulled it down over her head.

Murtagh cleared his throat, feeling his own face growing hot. His shirt was too big for Ashen – she had to roll up the sleeves. When he looked at her, there was fire in her eyes, burning as brightly as it always had. He admired her, her courage and her resistance.

He leaned in and kissed her. She tasted of blood and tears, yet he didn't care. Ashen made a noise of surprise, yet she did not resist as Murtagh pushed her into the corner. He seemed to have a habit of pushing her into solid objects. His kiss was almost hungry and she surrendered to it completely.

Murtagh felt her hands moving up his bare chest, tentative. He grew bolder due to her daring and started planting kisses down her neck, slid the too-big shirt down her shoulders. He heard her sharp intake of breath.

_Curse my teenage hormones. _Murtagh groaned.

Ashen's hands moved down Murtagh's arms, running over the muscles there, to trace down his back. Her hands brushed over the scar his father had given him and Murtagh stiffened. That had suddenly broken the spell that Ashen seemed to hold over him. They were in the dungeons. It was not exactly the most ideal place for a romantic encounter.

Ashen looked almost disappointed as Murtagh moved away from her and she pulled his shirt back up her shoulders. Despite the serenity of the situation, she could still appreciate how handsome Murtagh was, how well-built…especially when he wasn't wearing a shirt…She chastised herself. Now was not the time.

They moved from the dungeons, Ashen's hand in Murtagh's. They hurried through the empty corridors, bathed in moonlight. Footsteps alerted them to the fact that they were not alone, but Murtagh did not really care. Let people say what they would to Galbatorix. He would convince the king that he could be responsible for Ashen.

It was only when he realised that the person's hair gleamed the same silver as the moonlight, felt Ashen's grip tighten on his hand, that he knew how much fate hated him. Zander strode towards them, an amused expression on his face as he took in the fact that Murtagh was bare-chested and Ashen wore his shirt.

"Tumbling a prisoner?" the magician taunted, "I should not have expected more of you. After all, you are Morzan's son."

Murtagh released Ashen's hand and stepped forward, cold fury etched across his features.

"Even if that was the case, at least I don't stoop as low as you." He snapped.

Ashen was confused, but she knew what Murtagh said must have insulted Zander…because although he continued to smile, the mirth died in the magician's eyes, leaving them horribly empty.

"I shall inform Galbatorix," Zander warned.

Murtagh shrugged as though he didn't care.

"Go ahead. I will explain my actions. I doubt Galbatorix will be pleased when he learns that you tortured Ashen to the brink of insanity."

Ashen was watching the two of them carefully. Zander's face was a mask of complacency – a lie considering how Murtagh was battering down his excuses. Murtagh had nothing but rage in his expression and from the gleam in his eyes, Ashen guessed that he might strike Zander down.

"I saw what you did to her," hissed Murtagh, and for just a moment, fear flashed through Zander's eyes as the Rider took another step closer. Fear was good. Fear made Murtagh powerful. "It was unnecessary."

"The king deemed it necessary," Zander replied coolly.

Murtagh shook his head slowly, a low chuckle escaping him – but there was no real mirth in his laugh. Ashen could see that he had become completely dangerous. She wouldn't want to be his enemy right now.

"I have my own methods of luring Tristan in." Murtagh's tone was icy. "It was not up to you to drag her from her room the moment I had left Uru'baen. I will speak to the king. Ashen is _my_ prisoner."

Zander's lips curved into a vicious smile.

"Are you in love with her, Murtagh?"

Whatever self-control Murtagh possessed, it vanished at that instant. He threw himself at Zander, slamming his fist into the other man's nose. Zander stumbled backwards, clutching his face – except Ashen noticed, with some satisfaction, the scarlet liquid that streamed down from his nose. She hoped it was broken.

Murtagh did not stop there. The white-hot rage burned through him, screaming at him to attack. He had never felt this much hate inside him before, except maybe when Galbatorix had announced his true name. He punched Zander again, the powerful force of the Rider's blow sending him flying into the wall. The magician slid down and glanced up at Murtagh, shocked at the might of the Rider's wrath.

"Stop!" Ashen cried from what seemed like miles away.

_Murtagh! _Thorn sounded shocked, but a little amused at the same time. _Leave the man be._

_He deserves everything he gets. You know what he did to Ashen!_

Despite how incensed he was, Murtagh let Thorn calm him down, as he was prone to doing whenever Murtagh was upset or angry. Thorn had the mind of a hatchling in some ways, but in others, he was very mature.

The red rage that clouded his vision faded and Murtagh found himself panting and sweeping his dark hair from his eyes. Zander was clambering to his feet, his face bloody. Ashen stood nearby, her small hands clenched into fists, her eyes smoldering.

"Don't you see what you are doing?" She yelled at him, blinking back tears. "Don't you see who you are becoming? By attacking – him…" She couldn't even bring herself to say Zander's name. "You are just as bad as him – no, worse!"

"Who?" snapped Murtagh, whirling around to face her, knowing and hating the name that she would say. "Who am I becoming?"

"Morzan!" cried Ashen, before clapping her hands over her mouth when she saw the pain in Murtagh's eyes. She had not meant to hurt him. She had just seen him so caught up in the storm of his fury, feared what he was capable of. For just a few moments, he had lost himself and that frightened her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I didn't mean that."

Murtagh just glared at his feet. "Come with me, Ashen."

For a second she hesitated, but then she looked across at Zander. He was grinning despite the blood which stained his face and teeth. When he started laughing manically, Ashen shuddered and followed Murtagh.

"You are doomed!" crowed Zander, "Both of you!"

_Well,_ Thorn sounded like he was attempting to convey a whole range of emotions, but he finally settled with: _You should be glad that the three of you didn't wake up the entire castle._


	13. Bad Boy

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Bad Boy**

**A/N: Just for reference: italics (**_like this)_** indicates a flashback, bold italics (**_**like this)**_**indicates a dream.**

"_Be my bad boy, be my man_

_Be my weekend lover_

_But don't be my friend."_

_- Bad Boy, Cascada_

* * *

_**Fragments flashed through Tristan's mind. At first they were fast, faster than he could follow. Images that he couldn't comprehend burned into his mind, leaving him wondering how they got there. Then everything started to slow down and he started to see and hear things that made sense…well, more than the pieces of nothing did:**_

_**Roran, a sombre expression on his face as he rose to his feet, with a velvet cloak pooling around him and a heavy crown on his head. He raised his arms and the watching crowd cheered enthusiastically. Beside Roran stood Katrina, her face glowing with pride – and a small baby which Tristan could not discern as male or female.**_

_**Vanir and Delia were headed towards a ship, their arms entwined. They were smiling at each other and Tristan saw the two dragons in the air overhead, purple and green. He stood on the shore, watching the procession. As Vanir and Delia boarded the ship, he heard his own cry of anguish as Fafnir and Aziza whirled through the wind, twisting and dipping.**_

_**Ashen, in the midst of a horrific battle between the Varden and Imperial soldiers. She slashed at the enemy with her sword. Tristan watched his sister, enthralled by her skill. She was one of the best fighters he'd ever seen. **_

_**A blond magician, his eyes gleaming with insanity and his teeth bared in savage triumph as he reached upwards and black light shot from his hand towards Fafnir. Tristan watched as someone fell from the dragon's back…and with slight surprise, he realised it was him.**_

_**The same Shade that Tristan had seen before, wielding two swords, hacking through Varden soldiers with a deadly efficiency. **_

_**Blue and black dragons doing battle in the sky, their Riders wielding deadly swords that flashed underneath the moonlight.**_

_**Murtagh, his eyes haunted and scared, the tip of his sword pressed to an injured Eragon's collarbone.**_

_**Delia on Aziza's back, screaming a battle cry, Evarinya raised as she descended upon the battle.**_

_**A dark-haired young man and a blonde girl kissing under a shower of blood and rain, oblivious to the destruction around them.**_

_**Darkness fell…so thick that Tristan was left unable to see a thing…however, he still heard the voices.**_

"_**You can't die," It was the deep voice of a man, full of anguish. "Look at me. Don't you dare give up on me now. Sing to me – like you sang before, do you remember?"**_

_**A girl's voice, singing so softly that Tristan couldn't even make out the words. All of a sudden she fell quiet and his heart lurched.**_

"_**No." The man sounded devastated. "No. I can't lose you as well! NO!"**_

_**The last thing Tristan heard was the scream of a man who had lost everything, who had had so much pain in his life and had just lost the thing he cared about the most. There was nothing in that cry but pure agony.**_

* * *

Tristan sat up with a gasp, the man's scream still resounding in his head. He didn't think he had ever heard a single sound full of so much pain. It sounded worse than someone being tortured and Tristan found himself weeping for the man's loss despite himself. He had known loss. He had lost Colton – maybe Ashen as well.

_Oh, young one…_

Fafnir was full of love and compassion as he reached over with his nose and touched Tristan's forehead. The Rider wiped his tears away, wondering why he was so upset. It had only been a dream.

_Yet you know it's more than that, _Fafnir reminded him.

_Then what does this mean?_ Tristan was confused.

Fafnir sounded half-grave, half-proud. _That you truly are a Rider._

**

* * *

**When Ashen opened her eyes, Murtagh's face came into focus. She jumped, a little astonished, before sitting up and looking around her. Wherever this was, it wasn't the room she had been allocated before…and it _definitely _wasn't the dungeons. This room was huge and richly furnished with rugs and decorated with tapestries…

Her eyes narrowed accusingly as she turned back to face Murtagh.

"Is this…_your _room?"

He inclined his head. "It is. You are to stay here until I find you more suitable quarters. That way, Zander will not be able to get you."

Ashen frowned at the mention of the magician's name. "You said something last night about not stooping as low as him. What did you mean by that?"

Murtagh's jaw was working, but he refused to look at Ashen. "That doesn't matter. You're just safer here. I will find you more suitable accommodation when I can."

Ashen folded her arms across her chest – she was still wearing Murtagh's shirt.

"But…this is _your _bed. I couldn't possibly sleep in it and deprive you of one."

Implications flitted through Murtagh's mind, but he stopped himself from thinking about such matters.

Apparently, Thorn was of the same disapproving opinion. _Keep your mind from the gutter._

"I am going to take you to Thorn's roost in the western wing," Murtagh continued, getting up off the bed and pacing across the room. "After I speak to Galbatorix today, I should be able to arrange for you to have quarters near my own."

Despite the worry that was clearly etched into his face, he couldn't help but smirk as he turned back to glance at Ashen.

"I'll need my shirt back."

**

* * *

**Ashen had been wary of spending time with Thorn, but it turned out that the dragon was very curious about the girl. He had been nothing but kind to her and she found herself liking him immensely.

"What is it about Zander that Murtagh is keeping from me?" Ashen vented, more to herself than the red dragon, "I just don't understand. That man tortured me. What could possibly be worse than that?"

_I do not think I am at liberty to explain,_ Thorn admitted, sounding slightly ashamed, _It is a complicated matter and…to be honest I do not understand the concept entirely. It will have to be Murtagh that tells you. _

"Great," groaned Ashen, twisting her hair in her hands, "I am never going to find out, am I?"

_In time, all questions are answered._

Ashen looked at Thorn with utter surprise, then couldn't help but laugh and touch him gently on the nose. She had known Murtagh before, when he had been with the Varden. Now she was glad that she was getting the chance to know his dragon. Thorn was far from the monster she had once believed him to be.

The doors to the roost opened and Ashen whirled around. Murtagh moved through the doorway, striding over to them. He gave Thorn his attention first, stroking his dragon's nose. Thorn snorted appreciatively and Murtagh turned to face Ashen.

"Galbatorix has agreed to let you stay in the rooms just beside mine." Murtagh's tone was controlled, yet Ashen still felt that there was something he was hiding from her. He wouldn't look her in the eye. Yes, Galbatorix had agreed – but what was the cost to Murtagh?

"Why aren't you telling me anything?" Ashen demanded, planting her hands on her hips and glowering at him. "First of all it was Zander…now it's this. Don't you trust me, Murtagh?"

Murtagh looked at her with a sharp gleam in his eyes.

"Of course I do. But knowledge is often a burden. Just like my true name."

Ashen did not relent and Murtagh felt that it was only fair to let her know the truth.

"Zander has a reputation for bedding young women."

Thorn growled threateningly, yet Ashen still did not see what was so bad about that. She folded her arms and her eyes narrowed.

"What? Are you worried that I might fall victim to his charm and good looks?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Murtagh's eyes were hard. "Not all of them willing."

Ashen understood, averting her eyes. Of course it hadn't been her business to ask. Zander 'stooping so low' concerned matters that did not even involve her. However, knowing this only made her hate him even more.

"What about Galbatorix?" Ashen asked, attempting to change the subject, "Why…why did he let you become responsible for me again?"

Murtagh's eyes darkened and he shook his head slowly. "It doesn't matter. What does is that you won't be subjected to Zander's torture anymore. You are safe."

"You keep saying that," Ashen shot at him, annoyed that Murtagh would not tell her the truth. "I am a prisoner in Uru'baen. I am never safe."

**

* * *

**They had taken Feinster and Gil'ead, but that was not enough. Nasuada had set her sights on a new target: Belatona. It was the next logical step after taking Feinster. Nasuada hoped that they would get closer to the capital. Unfortunately, the past three months had been troublesome and she had not dared attempt to take the city without Eragon and Saphira. Now that they had returned, things were looking up.

They had considered the facts. Belatona was a large city, bigger than Feinster. It was ruled by Lord Daemyn, who was a staunch supporter of Galbatorix. Nasuada thought it was more likely that he would rather be killed than allow himself to be taken prisoner. There was the matter of Daemyn's son, Lucian, who was only a few years older than Nasuada herself. They could not tell which side he would take.

Orrin and his forces had not left Feinster since the city had been captured, but Nasuada had returned to Surda soon after it had been taken. There was much that still needed to be done. Now, she planned to send more soldiers north to Belatona under the command of Roran Stronghammer. There was no doubt that Belatona would prove just as hard to breach as Feinster, so many elf spellcasters were also moving north from the city.

"Do you think Murtagh will attack us?" Eragon asked, clearly concerned.

Nasuada doubted it. If he wasn't occupied with the hunt for Tristan, then he certainly would be by the elves in the north. According to Islanzadi, they had managed to capture several more minor towns since they had taken Gil'ead.

"I don't think so, but we cannot be certain of anything."

There had also been more rumours about the Shade Mordecai. Apparently, the Varden spies had gathered information that Mordecai would be present in Belatona upon their arrival, assisting Daemyn in driving the rebels back. Nasuada was filled with dread at this notion, hoping that Eragon was up to fighting his third Shade.

"We need to try getting Lucian on our side," Arya said. "We are not certain of his allegiance and he is not even yet twenty years old. It is likely that he does not know with whom to side himself but if we can appeal to him, we may have a powerful ally. If Belatona falls and Lucian is on our side, he would do well to succeed his father."

"We are playing a dangerous game," sighed Nasuada, glancing down at the map. Feinster and many of the northern cities had been crossed off – meaning they had been captured by the Varden or their allies. "Lucian may be even worse than Daemyn. We can't know until we meet him ourselves. What of these rumours about Mordecai?"

Eragon shrugged. "We can't know yet whether these are true or just fabricated by the Empire to spread fear through our ranks. I would suspect the latter. Mordecai has not been seen for some time."

It was a shame they did not have Tristan with them. For if Murtagh did come and the rumours about Mordecai were true, then the Varden would certainly lose the battle for Belatona. Nasuada pushed aside the map.

"I want you and Saphira to go with the forces heading for Belatona, Eragon. Roran is leading them. I fear that they may be attacked on their way if you do not stay with them."

Eragon inclined his head. "I understand your concern."


	14. Fight Inside

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Fight Inside**

"_And it finds me, the fight inside is coursing through my veins_

_And it's raging, the fight inside is breaking me again."_

_- Fight Inside, Red_

Galbatorix called Murtagh to him. The Varden – those rebel scum – were planning to take Belatona. While there was no doubting Lord Daemyn's loyalty, Lucian could prove to be a loose cannon. The Shade Mordecai had pledged his support and if Murtagh and Thorn went to Belatona as well, Galbatorix did not doubt that they could crush the Varden.

"You are to go to Belatona," instructed Galbatorix, pacing in front of the young Rider, "You are to destroy the Varden and if Eragon is there, you are to capture him and his dragon."

Murtagh felt the mix of emotions within him. He knew the consequences if he refused to comply with the king's demands…yet he'd had enough. He had sworn to bring Tristan to Galbatorix in order to keep Ashen safe – although he would never admit that to her. She would surely hate him.

He was sick of being an unwilling servant, someone shackled to others. He knew what defying the king would mean, though what was worse. What it would cost for defiance, or what it would cost for obeying?

Something changed inside Murtagh. He didn't know what it was, but it liberated him. It made him feel that he could make the decision for himself. He couldn't believe what he was saying when a single word emitted from his mouth: "No."

Galbatorix's eyes widened. He clearly hadn't expected this either. His eyes narrowed and his voice became dangerously low. "Do not be difficult, boy. You will do as you have been instructed. Swear it to me in the ancient language."

Murtagh realised what had happened and a relieved smile crossed his face as he started to laugh, doubling over until his stomach hurt. Galbatorix watched the young Rider wearing a look of cold fury. Murtagh knew immediately what danger he was in if he didn't act normally. He stopped laughing and allowed a somber look to come over his face as he swore in the ancient language. He twisted his words subtly, hoping Galbatorix wouldn't notice. He swore that he would do as instructed. He just didn't mention who was doing the instructing.

As he exited the throne room, pretending to be burdened by what he had to do, he was instead filled with triumph. He grinned to himself, but at the same time he was overcome by anxiety as he knew his task.

_Thorn. You know what's happened, don't you?_

_Yes! We can be free!_

Murtagh's true name had changed. He did not know what it was now, all he knew was that he was not forced to comply with Galbatorix's demands any longer. He felt…free. Murtagh had suspected that his love for Ashen would change him and therefore his name and for once, things had gone the way he had wanted them. He did not understand how it had happened, except that falling in love had made Murtagh a different man. For that, he would be eternally grateful…unless Galbatorix managed to find out the truth and discover his new name. Love really had set him free.

_We need to get out of Uru'baen._

_

* * *

_

"Ashen. Get up."

She found herself being roughly shaken awake and saw Murtagh standing over here. There was a mixture of emotions in his grey eyes. Excitement, trepidation…she sat up. Something must have happened.

"What's happening?"

"We're escaping Uru'baen." Murtagh's tone was matter-of-fact and he folded his arms across his chest, "Quickly. Get up and get changed."

Ashen couldn't believe what she was hearing. Had Murtagh taken leave of his senses? He was sworn to Galbatorix. The look on his face was impatient and she sighed heavily, hoping he would explain everything. Right now, she was not objecting to getting out of Uru'baen.

"Are you going to leave while I change?" Ashen demanded.

Murtagh ground his teeth. He obviously wanted to get out of Uru'baen straight away. Ashen felt herself growing cold, wondering what he'd done now. She glared at him, but he simply shrugged.

"I'll turn around and I won't look."

_I know you want to, Murtagh, but do not look at her getting changed. She may decide to kill you._

Ashen's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Murtagh turned his back and she hastily changed into some clothes. By the time Murtagh turned back, she was already gathering her things. He silently handed her a sword and she gave him a slightly alarmed glance. He was giving her a weapon? Were they expecting trouble?

"Murtagh, what is going on?"

"I'll tell you everything once we're safe," Murtagh insisted, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her towards the door, "Right now, we need to get on Thorn and get out of here. Alright?"

He raised his eyebrows and Ashen took a deep breath and nodded. She didn't like it when Murtagh kept things from her, but it didn't look like she had much of a say in the matter at the moment.

"I need to get the Eldunari," Murtagh said as they moved into the corridor, "I need you to go to Thorn's roost and stay there until I come."

Ashen nodded, knowing that she had to trust Murtagh in whatever madcap scheme he was embarking on this time. She felt nervous because she wasn't sure what he was doing, but as he turned and marched in the opposite direction, she sighed heavily and made her way to Thorn's roost.

"You know what he's planning, don't you?" she demanded of Thorn, planting her hands on her hips.

_I know that Murtagh's true name has changed because of his love for you, yes. _Thorn paused for a moment. _Oh dear. I am not sure if he wanted me to tell you that._

"What?" Ashen was confused. She knew about true names and the power they held, but…changing? Then there was the fact that Murtagh was in love with her. Of course, she had known that – yet hearing it from Thorn made it definite. "So…he does not have to listen to Galbatorix any longer?"

_Precisely. Which is why we must leave Uru'baen before the king discovers this for himself._

The doors opened and Murtagh strode in with a bag over each shoulder. Ashen's eyes widened with horror as she realised just how many Eldunari the king must have had. Murtagh quickly saddled Thorn and tied each bag to the saddle, knotting it as tightly as he could. He then turned to face Ashen.

"I know. I know why we're leaving, Murtagh."

Murtagh turned to glower at Thorn.

_How much did you tell her?_

_Enough,_ Thorn replied enigmatically.

Murtagh shook his head slowly and clambered up onto Thorn's back, reaching down and offering his hand to help Ashen on. She raised her eyebrows and Murtagh didn't know whether to be pleased or not that her attitude was starting to kick back in. Ashen accepted Murtagh's hand and he hoisted her up onto Thorn's saddle behind him.

"Hold on tight."

Thorn flexed his powerful legs and pushed upwards, launching himself up and out of the roost. Ashen had never flown on a dragon before and she wasn't prepared for the sudden speed. With a surprised exclamation, she wrapped her arms tightly around Murtagh's waist.

_Don't be too pleased with yourself. _Thorn chastised him.

Ashen was not surprised that the archers of Uru'baen did not bring Murtagh and Thorn down. They most likely believed him to be on a mission for Galbatorix. She shuddered to think of what the king would do when he realised his prized Rider had escaped him.

"Do you have any idea where we're going?" Ashen called over the breeze that whipped her hair into her face.

"The one place the king won't follow," Murtagh replied.

A shiver ran down the back of Ashen's neck. _The Spine._

_

* * *

_

Tristan was happier than he had been in a long time – and it wasn't solely to do with the fact that he had been permitted to attend the Midsummer Festival in Ellesmera. It wasn't because he'd drunk more mead than he should have, either. Delia had complimented him and Fafnir on their progress earlier, a radiant smile adorning her face as she stated that their training was nearly complete. Now that Tristan knew this, he was even more obliged to celebrate.

It had soon become clear that the elves' celebrations were much more entrancing than human ones. Tristan found himself drawn in despite everything – he had even started to forget his concern about Ashen in Uru'baen, although he was not sure that this was a good thing. The Midsummer Festival was a huge annual celebration for the elves and Tristan had been ensnared by it.

Over the other side of the congregation, Delia sighed heavily as she took another sip of her own mead. Watching Tristan, she didn't think she had ever seen him look so…free. Aziza had expressed an interest in teaching Fafnir how to hunt, so Delia was left alone in her thoughts as she observed her student.

"You seem very interested in the human boy." The voice was mocking, yet there was something almost jealous there.

Delia sighed and closed her eyes, before opening them and turning to face Vanir. He had been humbled by Eragon, yet there was still arrogance surrounding him. Her violet eyes narrowed as she faced him.

"Do not be a fool, Vanir. He is my student and I am merely worried about him. You know that our celebrations have a more severe impact on humans."

Vanir shrugged and Delia noticed how his eyes hardened as he watched Tristan. Delia was aware of Vanir's feelings for her – yet her duty came first…and that duty was being a Rider and teaching Tristan. Besides, Delia was young by elf standards, the equivalent of a human in their late teen years. Confusion about her feelings still ran deep within her.

"He finds you attractive," Vanir sounded amused, "It is quite pathetic. It reminds me of Eragon pining for Arya Drottningu."

Delia shot Vanir a sharp glance. "You should not mock them. It is not kind."

Vanir's eyebrows contracted into a V as he frowned. Delia was far more concerned for the young humans than she had a right to be. It was true that she may just be defending her fellow Riders, but Vanir needed to know that it was only that. He grabbed Delia's wrist and drew her to him.

"Vanir, what are you doing?" Her gaze was almost accusing.

"You have no duties as a Rider right at this moment, Delia," Vanir's voice was low and he was smirking, "No excuses. So it seems as though I have a chance to persuade you after all…"

Delia scowled. "This is ridiculous. Let go of me."

Ignoring her words, Vanir leaned in and kissed her. Delia tore her wrist free of his grasp and kneed him in the groin. The elf stumbled, his face twisting as he doubled over in pain. Delia was infuriated.

"How dare you!" she exclaimed, "You are acting like a young human! You forget, Vanir, that I am a Rider. Therefore, my position extends above yours."

Vanir immediately averted his eyes. "I apologise, Delia Svit-kona. It was ill thought out by me. I would never intentionally offend you."

Delia did not like to be angry at Vanir. He was a good friend to her, despite his romantic feelings for her. That was the problem – Delia knew that Tristan and Vanir were both attracted to her, yet she was lost. She did not know whether she felt about either of them that way. One day she might have to make a decision. She knew about Arya's dilemma with Eragon. Delia's conflict was entirely different.

"Vanir…I just need to think. I do not have time for romance in my life at this current point in time."

Delia did not know if he would be angry with her, so she walked away before he had the chance. She just needed to breathe, away from the celebrations where the mead and the magic made people do things they normally would not.

"Delia!"

Fortunately, the male voice calling her name did not belong to Vanir. She turned, only to see that it was Tristan following her. Her spirits sank, yet she didn't have the heart to tell him to leave her alone. He had not irritated her…yet.

There was a huge smile spread across the boy's features as he approached her and Delia realised how affected he was, even as a Rider. His blue eyes were glittering as he came up to her and she stiffened, somehow sensing that something was wrong.

"I don't think I have ever seen you in a dress before." Tristan indicated the deep purple dress that matched Delia's eyes and Aziza's scales. Delia smiled at his praise, feeling her tension easing. Perhaps the incident with Vanir had just made her too alert. "You look radiant, Delia Svit-kona."

Delia swallowed. "Thank you, Tristan."

There was something in his eyes and then he sounded almost fierce. "I'm in love with you, Delia. I wish I knew why because I know you would not want my love – it's just that you are so different from any of the others."

Delia should have seen this coming. She doubted Tristan would have confessed his feelings if he had not been influenced by alcohol and the pure power in the air tonight. She felt a bit sorry for him.

"Tristan, this is…you should back to the celebrations."

The young Rider's eyes widened. "You don't love me?"

Delia threw her hands up in the air. She was sick of this. Sick of the Midsummer Festival and sick of romance.

"Listen to yourself!" she cried, "You are not thinking straight. What about your training? What about the fact that your sister is held captive in Uru'baen? Have you taken leave of your senses? Some things are more important than others, Tristan. I don't think you are prioritizing."

Delia steeled herself. If she did not say it now, then Tristan would only continue to pursue her. She knew how ruthless she must sound, and even she didn't know if the words she spoke were the truth or not.

"I do not love you."

Hurt flashed through Tristan's eyes, but Delia forced herself to harden her heart. The young Rider nodded slowly and stalked away, returning to the celebrations. There he dealt with his rejection in the form of mead. This was not strange – when Tristan had lost Colton, he had just about drowned himself in alcohol. Ashen had been worried and infuriated.

It seemed to him like the more he gained, the more he lost. First Colton, now he might lose his little sister as well. If Ashen died…well, Tristan might not be capable of destroying Galbatorix, but he would certainly try. Then there was the matter of Murtagh. If that traitor had so much as touched Ashen…

Tristan just shook his head and downed another goblet of mead. Tomorrow didn't matter. He did not care for the hangover he'd suffer in the morning. Tristan was living for the present.


	15. Battle of Belatona

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Battle of Belatona**

Roran felt a strange satisfaction settle within him as he glanced at the walls surrounding Belatona with his arms folded across his chest. The rest of the Varden would be here soon enough – yet Roran felt proud that he was going to be leading the first wave into battle. He could not have asked for a higher honour.

"Roran!"

It was Carn. There was a horrified look on his face as he fought through the crowd getting ready to seize Belatona. Roran whirled around as Carn hurried up to him.

"Look, up there on the battlements."

Roran's gaze followed where Carn was pointing. His eyes widened and he found himself filled with dread as he realised that the rumours had been true. A lone figure stood on the battlements, their short red hair whipping in the breeze.

_Hellfire…a Shade!_

Roran had never battled a Shade before and he never intended to. He glanced upwards, shielding his eyes from the sun. Saphira soared overhead, Eragon on her back. Roran knew his cousin had killed two Shades now. Would Eragon be capable of killing a third?

"Tell all the spellcasters to focus their attention on the Shade," Roran commanded, "I'm not certain about the rumours concerning the Red Rider, but if he turns up we will discuss a new strategy then."

Carn nodded, his eyes saying what Roran didn't need to hear. Murtagh would be even more powerful than the Shade. If they were both fighting in Belatona today, most of the Varden would not make it out alive. Steeling himself, Roran lifted his hammer.

"We only have one chance at this. Let's give it all we've got."

The Varden roared in agreement and Roran led the charge towards Belatona's gates. They had managed to breach Feinster. Surely they could now do the same with Belatona. The elf spellcasters moved forward, many of the human magicians with them. They would attempt to break down the gates.

Roran instinctively looked up. The Shade was nowhere in sight. Saphira streaked across the sky towards Belatona, disappearing behind the walls. Roran clenched his hammer tightly in his hands, hoping Eragon would manage to open the gates.

* * *

Inside the walls of Belatona, Eragon and Arya dismounted as Saphira watched them. Eragon was on edge, looking around for the Shade – yet there was no sign of him. Arya rested her hand on his shoulder, her eyes gleaming.

"Eragon, we must open the gate."

The young Rider nodded and they both drew their swords and headed towards the gatehouse, cutting down any soldiers in their path. The Empire had never shown them any mercy, so why should they return the favour. Saphira launched herself into the air again, breathing fire at any archers that threatened her.

"This way!" Arya called, jumping down and landing nimbly on the ground. Eragon followed her lead, gripping Brisingr tightly. A group of archers on the battlements shot down at them. Eragon whipped around and raised his hand, but Arya shook her head.

"You must conserve your strength."

She barked something in the ancient language and the arrows stopped flying. The archers fell to the ground and then Eragon and Arya were running again. A group of soldiers charged down one of the streets towards them. Arya sprinted towards them and ducked the first blow, cutting the man's throat.

Eragon was not far behind. He cut down two men in quick succession, before decapitating a third. He did not relish killing, yet he knew it was what needed to be done. The remorse could wait until later. The Varden could not.

Eragon saw the Shade then, watching him and Arya from the distant height of the battlements. He ground his teeth, wanting nothing more than to charge the Shade and attack him right then.

_No, little one,_ Saphira told him, _You must focus on the task given to you. Later you may get the chance to destroy the Shade but for now, follow Arya!_

They charged towards the gatehouse expecting more resistance. The soldiers that opposed them were quickly cut down and Eragon felt that they were leaving a trail of bodies behind them. Just when they were closing in on the gatehouse, a lone soldier stepped in their path.

Arya raised her sword, before quickly realising that although the soldier had a sword in his own hand, he made no attempt to use it against them. He reached up and pulled the helmet from his head, throwing it to the ground.

They found themselves looking upon a pale young man of around nineteen or twenty years old. Eragon wondered how long he expected to last – he was fairly small and very thin. The young man was somewhat like a scarecrow with his tawny hair, freckled face and watchful eyes.

"Follow me," he said calmly, turning on his heel and setting off at a jog.

Eragon and Arya exchanged a puzzled glance. Did this young man not know who they were? If he did, why was he helping them? When he realised their hesitation, the young man turned and sighed pointedly.

"Look, do you want to help the Varden or not?"

They approached the gatehouse with suspicion, both Arya and Eragon wondering whether the young man was leading them into a trap. He clambered up the steps and knocked on the door to the gatehouse.

The door opened and the young man's hand slipped down and clenched around the hilt of a previously hidden dagger.

"Ah, it's only you," one of the soldiers inside said.

The young man swallowed. "I'm so sorry."

He moved quickly, cutting the man's throat and then doing the same to the other two men that were in there with him. The young man was still gazing regretfully down at the soldiers as Arya and Eragon entered the gatehouse.

"Why are you helping us?" demanded Eragon, "Who are you?"

The young man offered him a wry smile. "That can wait until later."

* * *

The portcullis started to open with a deafening screech and Roran felt his hopes rising. Around him, the Varden warriors roared in triumph. Roran raised his hammer and charged towards the slowly opening portcullis, the other soldiers following him. Above them, Saphira flew over the wall and into Belatona.

Looking around, the Shade was nowhere in sight. Roran felt a surge of victory. Perhaps he had fled. Eragon exited the gatehouse along with Arya and a scarecrow-like young man a little older than Roran.

Eragon immediately mounted Saphira when she landed, evidently planning to attack from the air. The young man waved a hand and Arya followed him. Roran watched him with a frown – he was clearly from Belatona, so why was he helping them?

Arya followed the young man down the streets. He said he could help them and he had. So why did she still feel that there was something important she did not know? Saphira bugled overhead, breathing fire down onto the archers who attempted to shoot her down.

"This way!" cried the youth.

Arya became aware that they were making their way towards the manor where Lord Daemyn of Belatona lived. She slowed her steps, wondering why the young man was leading her this way. A resigned expression crossed the youth's face as he turned to look at her.

"Look, elf, I'm trying to help you. The soldiers of Belatona will only stand down if Daemyn orders them to. Do you want to capture him, or not?"

Arya nodded imperiously without commenting. She saw no alternative. Whoever this strange young man was, he was actually trying to help them. He set off again at a run, Arya easily keeping up with his strides.

"There will be no guards," the youth told Arya, "F…Daemyn always sends his soldiers into battle rather than allowing them to guard him. We should have no trouble getting in."

The youth's steps slowed to a determined march as they moved into the manor. He had not been lying – Arya drew her sword, looking for trouble, yet finding none. A man with greying hair was walking towards them with a hard look on his face. By the rich fabric of his clothes, Arya knew at a guess that this was Lord Daemyn.

"What have you done?" he demanded of the young man in a harsh voice, gripping him by the shoulders and shaking him fervently, his teeth bared, "You have sold me out!"

Daemyn roughly pushed the youth from him and Arya saw the resemblance – the wide-spaced eyes, the same straight noses. The young man who had led her straight to Lord Daemyn was the man's own son, Lucian.

Lucian did not appear perturbed by his father's anger. Instead, he pressed his lips together in a hard line.

"You serve a monster, Father." Arya was astonished at how opinionated he was. Did he know he could be killed for saying such things? "I will not bow to Galbatorix. He employed a _Shade_ to help us. Mordecai could just as easily have turned on us. I did not ask them to kill you, Father."

"You have ruined me, boy!" howled Daemyn, reaching out and striking his son across the face. Arya moved quickly, placing herself between the infuriated noble and the strong-minded youth who had helped her.

Eragon marched in, his hand on Brisingr's hilt. He witnessed what was going on and his eyes widened as he also realised the truth about their guide's identity. Lucian observed his father with a hard expression on his face.

"All you have to do is surrender, Lord Daemyn." Eragon's tone was even. "We do not wish to harm you."

Daemyn's eyes were bulging.

"I will not give you possession of Belatona!" he spat, "I am a staunch supporter of Galbatorix and you rebel barbarians cannot convince me!"

Lucian stepped forward, his eyes smoldering. "If you grant my father and I mercy, and cease killing the people of Belatona, then we surrender to you."

"How dare you!" roared Daemyn as more Varden soldiers filed through into the manor, "You have overstepped the line, boy. I will see to it that you are disinherited. You will never become the Lord of Belatona!"

Eragon exchanged a glance with Arya, who nodded slowly. She was sure that the decision the young Rider was about to make would have Nasuada's blessing.

"He already is."

Daemyn shut up immediately, turning to face Eragon with worry etched across his face. A pair of Varden soldiers grabbed him by the arms, restraining him.

"What?"

Eragon couldn't help but suppress a smile.

"Henceforth, Lucian is the Lord of Belatona, by the Lady Nasuada's decree."

Lucian looked pleasantly astonished, while Daemyn struggled futilely against his captors. Eragon turned his gaze upon the rotund noble.

"Put him in the cellar until Nasuada arrives. She can decide his fate."

The Varden soldiers led Daemyn – who was complaining loudly – off to the cellar. Eragon turned to face Lucian, who had been very quiet for the past few minutes. Despite the fact that he looked young and vulnerable, Lucian was strong and tenacious and Eragon didn't doubt that he would make a fine new Lord of Belatona. There was a question that the Rider felt the need to ask.

"Why did you help us, Lucian?"

"Allegiances aren't set in stone, Shadeslayer. Just because my father supports Galbatorix, it doesn't mean that I do."

There was a firm note in Lucian's voice. Eragon sighed.

"I didn't mean it that way. I meant, why did you risk it?"

Lucian studied his nails for a moment, before his eyes met Eragon's.

"You should know better than anyone, Shadeslayer. Sometimes it is worth the risk, worth getting caught and killed because you are doing something you believe in. For years I haven't been certain of where I stood, but now I am."

He lifted his chin and in that moment, they could all see that Eragon had not been wrong in choosing Lucian to be the next ruler of Belatona.

"I have never cared what Galbatorix thinks of me." He raised his voice. "I fight for the Varden."


	16. Into The Spine

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Into The Spine**

"_Somewhere I will find_

_All the pieces torn apart_

_You just left behind."_

_- Mystery of You, Red_

It was so quiet that Ashen could hear Murtagh breathing softly in his sleep beside her. Thorn had his wing draped over the pair of them as a kind of tent and Murtagh had given Ashen his cloak to sleep under. Unable to sleep, Ashen rolled over onto her side, leaning on her elbow as she observed the sleeping Rider. Murtagh looked so…well, innocent. When he was asleep, he looked younger than his nineteen years. She fought the strange urge to run her fingers through his dark hair.

Ashen couldn't sleep. She knew the rumours of the Spine just as well as anyone else. Of course, Murtagh feared nothing – the only person more powerful than him was Galbatorix and that was the one person who would not come into the Spine to find them. Sighing heavily, Ashen grabbed Murtagh's cloak and draped it around her shoulders as she rolled out from underneath Thorn's wing.

Out in the open, it was cold and Ashen wrapped the cloak more tightly around herself. She strode a little away from Thorn and Murtagh, but knew it would be stupid to wander too far. She lay down a few metres away, looking up at the stars. She remembered nights like this, what seemed like so long ago. She had done this with countless people – Colton, Tristan, Eragon…even Murtagh one time, just after the battle of Farthen Dur.

No, she wouldn't think about the past. It hurt too much. She had to focus on the present and the future. She swallowed hard, forcing back her tears. Ashen had decided that she wasn't going to cry, not anymore.

"Ashen…"

She sat bolt upright, glancing around her. Thorn's wing still covered a sleeping Murtagh so she did not know who could possibly have said her name, unless she was starting to imagine things. She couldn't help but laugh mirthlessly. It wouldn't exactly surprise her, not after what Zander had put her through…

"Ashen."

The voice was more insistent this time and that was when Ashen saw her brother walking towards her. Not Tristan – Colton. She swallowed hard and knew now that she had gone insane. Colton was dead. He had been for almost a year now. Shaking her head slowly, she took a faltering step backwards as Colton closed the distance between them.

"No…you're not real…"

"That's right," Colton nodded, as if confessing that he was dead was the easiest thing in the world, "But neither am I a figment of your imagination, baby sister. You always wondered what lay within the Spine, what managed to destroy half the king's army. Well, now you know."

He was tall, around the same height as Murtagh. Tristan had always been of smaller stature than his older brother. Ashen glanced at him in askance. He looked like a solid human being to her. If she hadn't known he was dead, she would have believed it.

"What are you?" she whispered, "You're not my brother."

Colton flinched as if she'd hit him. "Not…exactly. We are ghosts, Ashen. You see, when anyone in Alagaesia dies, their soul inexplicably comes to the Spine. Magic is very strong here, so that soul forms an imprint which can only be summoned by those who knew the person."

Ashen frowned. "I…summoned you?"

Colton looked troubled. "It is a bit more complicated than that. Once Galbatorix became king, things changed in the Spine. Now ghosts only appear some of the time – and when they do, it is only the imprint of a person's greatest fear that is conjured. This is why Eragon saw nothing in the Spine…we did not appear to him."

Seeing Colton was both unnerving and comforting. Ashen reached out as if to touch his face and was a little disappointed when her hand simply moved through him. It reminded her that he was only an illusion of the Spine and not a real person. She gnawed at her lip. She did not fear Colton. It must just be memories that the Spine conjured, memories intended to hurt a person.

"So what happened when Galbatorix's army passed through here?"

Colton smiled almost viciously. "They got what they deserved. The ghosts of the people they had killed bombarded them. Each soldier was faced by their own personal demons. They started to go mad because of it and attacked each other until none of them were left, the last one taking his own life."

Ashen shuddered at the thought. If it had been Galbatorix himself she might have been ruthlessly pleased to hear that sort of end, but most of the soldiers were men recruited from the cities. They did not ask to be part of the king's army and meeting so gruesome disturbed her. Now she doubted she would be able to sleep at all tonight.

"On a happier topic, I know that Tristan has become a Rider." Colton smiled and Ashen got the impression that he was proud of his younger brother. "Somehow, I always knew it would be one of you…and Tristan is certainly deserving. He will make a fine Rider yet."

Ashen nodded. She had not seen Tristan in months and she missed him dearly. She wondered how he and Fafnir were progressing with the elves. It was hard to imagine that he would one day become as powerful as Eragon or Murtagh. Glancing back at the sleeping boy, it was also hard for Ashen to imagine that someone who looked so innocent in slumber could be so lethally powerful in reality. It was hard to think that he had committed foul deeds in the king's name.

"Do not think I have forgotten you, Ashen." Colton's voice was quieter now. "You are the bravest person I know. You never give up."

Ashen hung her head. She was not brave. She had just known that there were important things than her out there, that some things really were worth dying for. Colton's eyes flicked towards Murtagh.

"You saved that boy from a lifetime of pain. You did not give up on him. I also know what you experienced at the hands of that magician. You must have been so afraid, knowing that I died in a similar manner…yet you showed courage, Ashen. You had hope."

His voice was starting to fade and Colton looked around him sharply.

"I am so proud of you both." He sounded almost desperate now. "May your sword stay sharp, Ashen."

There was a hard lump in Ashen's throat as Colton suddenly vanished. There was no mist or explosion – one moment he was there and the next he wasn't. Ashen suddenly felt awfully alone even though Murtagh and Thorn were only a few metres away. She almost wished that she hadn't seen Colton's ghost. It just reminded her of him and his death…but she wouldn't cry. She refused to. She would be strong now, just like he would want her to be.

"Poor, lonely little girl," another voice sneered.

Ashen whipped around to see Durza striding towards her, and any strength she might have possessed sunk to the bottom of her stomach. The only thing she felt right now was cold, piercing fear. Ashen stood her ground, clenching her hands into fists.

"You're not real," she snapped at him, "You're only a ghost. You can't hurt me."

The Shade chuckled darkly. Ashen did not fear Durza because of her own experiences. The reason she was so afraid of him was because of what he'd done to others. He had tortured Colton and Arya. She had seen the damage done to Arya.

"Naïve child," Durza laughed, "If I am not real, how can I do this?"

Images bombarded Ashen's mind. Colton, screaming so loud she thought his lungs would burst, covered in bruises and blood. Durza, his red eyes filled with insane glee as he raised the whip in his hand…

Ashen gasped, struggling to breathe. She had only ever heard the details of her brother's death and she had never wanted to see them for herself. Durza smiled viciously as he closed in on her and suddenly, it didn't seem like he was a ghost. What if Eragon had not killed him? What if he was still real?

Ashen went to run, but she tripped over a rock and fell to the ground as the Shade advanced on her. She screamed, suddenly terrified, feeling as though she was trapped in a nightmare. This couldn't possibly be real. After what had happened to Colton, he couldn't get her as well…

Thorn cracked an eye open upon hearing a girl's scream. He was immediately alert, realising that it must be Ashen. He reached out to his Rider through the bond they shared.

_Murtagh! It's Ashen!_

The young Rider was awake immediately, struggling out from underneath Thorn's wing as another scream ripped through the air like a knife. Ashen was in trouble. Murtagh grabbed Zar'roc up from where it lay next to the Eldunari and charged towards her.

Ashen sat on the ground with her knees drawn up to her chest and tears spilling down her cheeks. Murtagh put Zar'roc down and crouched in front of her, wondering what had happened.

"I saw him," Ashen whispered, sounding petrified, "I saw Colton. I know what lurks in the Spine, Murtagh. They're ghosts."

Murtagh did not quite know what to say. It had not been the first time he had heard claims that the Spine was haunted. He had scoffed at it before now, but seeing the fear in Ashen's eyes convinced him that it was no joke.

"Then…I saw Durza." Ashen buried her face in her hands, before wiping away at her tears. "He showed me terrible things. He showed me what he did to my brother."

Murtagh had done terrible things. He had burned villages and killed innocent people, all because of Galbatorix. But Murtagh was not evil. Unlike Durza, he did not relish the fear he caused and the havoc he wreaked. He had witnessed nightmarish things he never wanted to tell Ashen about. He did not know what to think about what she said. Was this a result of Zander torturing her, or had she really seen ghosts?

Then Murtagh saw him. Morzan stood right before him, looking as though he was made of flesh and bone. The young Rider's face paled as he reeled away, unable to believe it. Morzan looked down on his son, his face handsome and cruel.

Ashen was staring at Murtagh with wide eyes as he groped for Zar'roc, holding up the sword in an attempt to ward the ghostly vision of his father off. Morzan laughed and advanced, unperturbed by the sword in his son's hands.

"You think to slay me with my own sword?" His voice was deep like Murtagh's.

Murtagh shook his head slowly. Now he understood what Ashen had been talking about. For there was no way that his father could really be standing before him. Morzan held out his hand to Murtagh.

"Come, my son. Join me. You and I are so alike, in so many ways."

Murtagh could feel the rage building up as he leapt to his feet, gripping Zar'roc in both of his hands. Morzan was still smiling knowingly at him and it was causing him to shake with rage. How could his father presume to know him?

"_I am nothing like you_!" Murtagh roared.

"Oh, but you _are_." Morzan's tone was cold and amused. "You have killed innocents, Murtagh. You serve the king."

Murtagh shook his head vehemently. "Not of my own volition."

Morzan's mismatched eyes fell upon Ashen and a triumphant smile adorned his features. Murtagh felt his heart sinking as his father pointed a victorious finger at the shocked girl on the ground.

"Then what of the girl you are corrupting, Murtagh? The girl who you may one day marry, and who might bear your child…for that was what happened with your mother. Do you not see the similarities? That girl will be your doom."

Murtagh shook his head. As real as Morzan might appear to him, it was just the magic of the Spine. Ashen could not see Morzan any more than Murtagh had seen Colton and Durza. Therefore, Morzan was not real. Murtagh gripped Zar'roc so tight that his knuckles were turning white. A vein pulsed in his neck.

"I will not be what you want me to be," he hissed, slashing at Morzan. The ghostly figure vanished and Murtagh lowered Zar'roc, wondering how he must have appeared to Ashen, who watched him apprehensively.

"It happened to you, too," she surmised quietly, "They haunt you and…try to make you afraid…try to make you go mad…"

Ashen could remember everything all too clearly. Colton with a warm smile on his face. Durza, sneering at her, making her see horrific things…she couldn't help it as she burst into tears, feeling miserable.

The only comfort Murtagh could provide was to hold her close as she cried into his chest. He stroked her blonde hair back in a rhythmic motion. The only thing he wanted was to take away all of Ashen's pain and heartache. She did not deserve this.

Ashen pushed him down onto the ground. Murtagh was confused, yet he did not resist her. He only realised what she intended when she started undoing the first few buttons of her shirt, then leaned over and started fiddling with the buckle of his belt.

Murtagh wanted Ashen, but here and now…it was just wrong. It would be taking advantage of her while she was vulnerable. She was clearly upset and was not thinking. Murtagh swallowed and then grabbed her by the wrists, pushing her gently off him. Her eyes glittered with tears and defiance.

"Ashen, stop." Murtagh's tone was forceful and despite the lust he felt, he kept it out of his tone.

She laughed bitterly, clambering to her feet and walking back towards Thorn.

"So you don't want me then."

Murtagh's eyebrows contracted into a frown. "It's not about that and you know it. You are not thinking straight. I won't take advantage of you when you are like this."

Ashen gave him a scornful glance and turned her back on him. Feeling the need to make her understand, Murtagh followed her, gripping her by the shoulder and whirling her arm. She tried to push him away, but he grabbed her by the arms and pulled her closer.

"Let me go, Murtagh." Her tone was deadly serious.

"You think that you're the only one to see hardship?" Murtagh demanded, his grey eyes blazing with an intensity that made her fall silent. "Do you want to know what I went through in Uru'baen? The Twins tortured me. Zander tortured me. Galbatorix himself tortured me. They already knew my true name, so do you want to know why they did it?"

Ashen looked at her feet, already knowing the answer. For the same reason Zander had tortured her.

"For spite," Murtagh's voice was little more than a whisper, "Galbatorix was angry that I had defied him, so he let them do what they wanted. I beat at the walls until my fists were bloody. I pulled at the manacles they put around me until my wrists broke. I screamed until I lost my voice. I _never stopped fighting, _Ashen."

The tears that streamed down her cheeks were not those of pity – which he would have hated. Those tears indicated that she understood what he was going through, that she could empathize.

"Stop."

Ashen shook her head, attempting to break free of his grip. She didn't want to hear any more, yet she knew he would tell her anyway. Murtagh was jaded and cynical. He was not going to hide the truth because it would make both of them feel better. He told it like it was.

"Galbatorix made me do terrible things after that," Murtagh confessed. Somehow, it felt better that he was telling someone – even if that 'someone' was a girl who was thrashing like a wildcat in his grasp. "I was sent out to burn villages. He made me kill _children._ Do you know how sick that makes you feel, when it is not what you want but you are forced to do it anyway?"

"Stop it!" cried Ashen. Then she was gripping Murtagh's shirt in her fists and was sobbing into his chest. He released his grip on her and put his arms around her instead, holding her tight as she cried heartbrokenly.

"I saw him die," she whispered, "Durza's ghost showed me…he was bruised and bleeding and – I didn't ever think I'd use this word to describe Colton, but – he was _scared_. Not just because he was dying, but because he didn't know if Durza would get Tristan and me."

Murtagh held Ashen close, knowing it was for the best that he just let her cry it out. He felt that it was his turn to be there for her now. She had saved him without even really knowing it. Murtagh felt guilty for the things he had done, despite the fact that his deeds had disgusted him. He rested his chin on Ashen's head, feeling that having her was more than he deserved.


	17. Closer To The Edge

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Closer To The Edge**

"_I cannot save you,_

_I can't even save myself."_

_- Save Yourself, Stabbing Westward_

* * *

Galbatorix had been livid when he had learned that Murtagh and Thorn had escaped – along with Ashen. He had already killed a half-dozen people before he'd calmed down enough to summon the magician Zander and the Shade Mordecai to him. He glared down on them, his black eyes burning.

"You failed me," the king spat at Mordecai, "You fled Belatona as soon as the city was taken. What's the matter? Scared of a Rider?"

Mordecai sneered, unafraid. "I do not need to prove myself to you. I am assisting you of my own free will. I retreated because I knew we did not stand a chance when Daemyn's son killed his people and assisted the Varden."

Galbatorix ground his teeth. "That boy will suffer, to be sure. Yet still the problem remains that I stand alone against three Riders. Not to mention that Morzan's spawn took the Eldunari with him when he left!"

"His true name must have changed," muttered Zander, looking thoughtful, "I wouldn't doubt that it is because of the girl…"

Galbatorix threw him a withering look. "Thank you for stating the obvious. If his true name had not changed, he would never have been able to defy me."

He looked down at the map of Alagaesia he had put down on the table. A dagger had been slammed straight into the city of Dras-Leona. Galbatorix jabbed a finger at it.

"This is where the Varden will go next. They are accompanied by Eragon, and I would not be astonished if Murtagh joined them. I have not been able to locate Tristan thus far, yet he is still a danger to me. Mordecai, it is your task to go to Dras-Leona. Do _not _let them take the city."

Mordecai's eyes were hard, but he inclined his head and turned to leave, his blood-red cape swirling behind him as he stalked from the room. Galbatorix watched him go. The Shade was unpredictable. He was not as loyal as Durza had been and he tended to do things for his own self-gain rather than for Galbatorix.

"We need the girl back."

Zander's eyes flashed with surprise. "Ashen?"

"What other girl do you think I mean?" snapped Galbatorix, "Yes, Ashen. I have come to the conclusion that she is the key."

Zander started to smile. He could see what the king meant. She was Tristan's sister. Murtagh was in love with her. The only uncertainty was what Eragon's relationship with her was, but that hardly mattered. With all the other Riders against him, Eragon would have no choice but to bow to Galbatorix's wishes.

"I need her _alive_," Galbatorix instructed, making sure that Zander understood. "Bring her to me – unharmed."

Zander looked a little disappointed at the 'unharmed' part.

"What of the Riders?"

Galbatorix waved a hand dismissively. "Leave them for now. Your focus is capturing the girl. No doubt she will put up a fight, but if we are to triumph we _must _have her. We cannot gain the Riders otherwise."

* * *

"_Solembum tells me he spoke to you."_

_Ashen whirled around to see Angela making her way into the tent. She flushed red and staggered backwards. She hadn't meant to intrude. She had only been looking for a herb that would help her sleep: the nightmares had been frequent of late._

"_I…I'm sorry…I didn't mean…"_

_Angela offered the girl a warm smile. The witch had not been with the Varden long, yet already she was beginning to see the destinies of those around her take shape. The fate of this fifteen-year-old girl with a tragic past was something she was eager to discover._

"_Only three others have spoken with Solembum," Angela's voice was quiet, "The last being the Rider Eragon. This makes you special, Ashen. It means that I can read your fortune. Be warned, though: it is not always pleasant. In fact, most of the time it is harsh and bleak. If you consent, I will cast the bones for you."_

_The prospect of a dark future grimly amused Ashen. She had already experienced much pain in her past. How much more difficult could her future really be? She'd lost Colton and it had broken her heart. Unless her future involved losing Tristan, she thought she could probably handle it. She licked her lips and nodded._

"_Cast the bones, please."_

_Angela sat down on one side of the makeshift table and Ashen sat across from her. Solembum prowled around the edges of the tent. The witch picked up the bones and barked a few in the ancient language that Ashen did not understand, before casting the bones onto the table. Angela examined the bones with interest for a few minutes, sighed, and then nodded._

"_This bone indicates you will live for a long number of years, or infinity," Angela frowned and looked at Ashen with her head cocked to the side, "The only other time this came up was when I read Eragon's fortune. You are not a Rider, are you?"_

_Ashen shook her head fervently. "Nor do I think I will become one."_

_Angela smiled wryly. "Ah, but the future can hold many surprises." She studied the bones again and then looked across at Ashen, a grin crossing her face. "Despite your hard past, there is hope in your future. There is romance in your future. As the moon indicates, this will be powerful enough to break empires. Your love will be powerful, strong and extremely handsome."_

_Ashen brushed a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously, feeling her cheeks burning. Why would such a man be interested in her? She was only a soldier of the Varden. _

"_There is a betrayal," Angela stated bluntly, "From someone close to you. There is a great doom associated with this, although whether it is your own or someone else's, I cannot tell."_

_Ashen was silent._

"_Many conflicts will be centred around you. Why, I cannot say. All I can tell you is that the pain in your life – and I am sorry about this – will not come to a close for some time. You have a great destiny ahead of you, Ashen. You are more than just a Varden warrior."_

_Ashen found this hard to believe. If Angela was implying that she would become the next Rider, she highly doubted it._

"_There is a battle closing in. During this battle, you will see the one you fear the most. You will confront him."_

_Ashen felt cold, knowing who Angela meant straight away._

"_Durza."_

* * *

Murtagh had been teaching Ashen about magic ever since he discovered that she had accidentally healed herself after Zander's torture. He was surprised that she was a magician, and even more so at the first magic she had used.

"Healing yourself isn't easy," Murtagh admitted, scratching at the back of his neck, "But you're right. Most of the time when people first use magic, it's completely by accident."

Ashen could only nod. It was alright for Murtagh. He was a seasoned magician by now. In fact, apart from Galbatorix, he was the most powerful person in Alagaesia. It scared her to think that he could overpower her at any moment.

"I know the ancient language," Ashen explained, "So do I just use the words for what I'm trying to do?"

Murtagh sighed heavily. This was probably going to take a long time to explain.

"Yes and no. You need to get it precise. If it's not specific enough, it probably won't work. Also, you need to use a method that doesn't drain all of your energy and kill you."

Ashen looked uncomfortable. "Well, I can't be too good then. I just healed myself, barely, before passing out."

Murtagh's grey eyes were fierce. "Ashen, you had just been tortured. You're lucky you were able to access magic at all."

He leaned over and picked up a rock. "We're going to start easy, alright? To lift this rock from the ground, say '_stenr risa _'. Don't be surprised if it doesn't work the first time. It takes a lot of time and effort. You will probably feel drained by the time you're done."

Ashen considered this. "How long would it take me to become as good as a proper magician? Like…" She tried to look thoughtful. "Zander?"

Murtagh's expression hardened and a stern look came over his face as he shook his head. He leaned forward and gripped Ashen by the shoulders. He knew that she wanted revenge for what the magician had done to her.

"Stay away from him. If Zander ever comes, let me deal with him. Even a year from now, you wouldn't be powerful enough to confront him. Zander has been training for years. You can't hope to compete with him."

Ashen nodded sullenly, feeling like a scolded child. She realised that fighting Zander would be about as advisable as fighting a Shade. He was probably Galbatorix's most powerful magician, apart from Murtagh.

Sighing, she focused her attention on the rock. "_Stenr risa._"

The rock wriggled on the ground, but apart that, nothing happened. She glared at it, as Thorn watched her efforts with slight amusement.

_You can't just say the words, Ashen. You have to mean them._

Placing her right hand over the rock, Ashen stated more firmly, "_Stenr risa_."

Her magic streamed from her hand, a cerise colour somewhere between pink and red. Murtagh moved forward a little, watching with fascination as the rock wobbled off the ground a few centimetres. Ashen's mouth opened slightly and she smiled – and then the rock dropped back onto the ground. Ashen's smile fell with it.

"You're starting to get it," Murtagh sounded neither pleased nor disappointed. "Again."

* * *

Tristan was drunk with victory. The taking of Teirm had by no means been his first battle – he had been an archer during the Battle of Farthen Dur, and again during the Battle of the Burning Plains – but it had been his first conflict as a Rider. He had been honoured when Delia had proclaimed he and Fafnir were capable of joining the elves in Teirm.

Never had Tristan felt more close to his dragon. He and Fafnir had worked together to avoid obstacles and take down enemies. He felt that the battle had strengthened their bond – although they had been nothing compared to Delia and Aziza.

The great purple dragon and her Rider had rocketed through Teirm, spreading chaos. Tristan had watched with admiration: Delia and Aziza had practically been one during the battle, doing everything as a sole entity.

Tristan had not relished taking the lives of the soldiers who had attacked him and Fafnir. It had been necessary, nothing else. Today had been the day that Sundavar first spilt blood while in Tristan's hands.

Delia had moved with a fluid grace when she had been on the ground, ducking and whirling, using Evarinya like an extension of her arm. Tristan had been impressed – he hadn't seen her fight in a battle before.

Taking Teirm had not been a necessity, yet Queen Islanzadi had thought it wise. This way, the port city could not attempt to help Galbatorix come the final attack on Uru'baen. The ruler of Teirm had been arrested, along with many others. Some chose to fight with the elves, which proved just how much they hated the king. However, these numbers were still few.

It had been just over five months since Tristan had been sent to Du Weldenvarden. Fafnir had grown a lot in that time, and so had Tristan – just in a different way. He was still worried about Ashen, although he knew once they reached Uru'baen he would have the chance to free her. While he wanted to believe that she was alive, he had the sick feeling in his stomach that she might meet the same fate as Colton.

Across from Tristan and Fafnir, Vanir and Delia were talking in low voices while Aziza watched them almost boredly. Tristan watched them a little enviously. He knew Vanir stood a better chance with Delia than he did, yet he also knew he shouldn't be thinking of Delia in that way.

_Good, young one. You are learning. For now we must focus on the war. After that, you can contemplate your feelings._ Fafnir sounded quite proud.

_If I'm still alive,_ Tristan ruminated wryly.

Tristan knew that they were strong now. He could perform magical feats almost equal to Eragon. He knew how to draw on energy from other beings. He could wield a sword brilliantly – maybe even as well as Ashen, if he was lucky. Despite the fact that she was not a Rider, Ashen had always been an unusually talented swordswoman. Tristan still preferred archery.

_It's closing in on us, Tristan. _Fafnir was grim. _The end of the war is near._

* * *

After all she had been through, Ashen had to acknowledge that it was quite stupid that she nearly cried when Murtagh said she'd have to cut her hair. They were approaching Teirm and there was no doubting that Galbatorix would have wanted posters of them plastered all over the place.

"I'm going to have to cut my _hair_?" Ashen was so horrified that Murtagh was trying not to find the situation amusing. She tugged at the golden blonde tresses that fell nearly to her waist and then glared at Murtagh.

"Not all of it," Murtagh assured her; "At longest it can be a bit past your shoulders."

Ashen looked murderous, so the Rider sighed and grabbed her by arms, pushing her down in front of him. He sat behind her and pulled out his dagger, thinking of how ridiculous this was going to be. He had gone from being a feared Rider to a rebel cutting a girl's hair outside of Teirm.

_Please don't mess it up, Murtagh, _Thorn pleaded, _You do know that if a Rider is killed, his dragon dies with him._

_You're hilarious,_ Murtagh responded dryly.

_I was not joking. I do not understand why females get so distressed when you cut their hair, but I do not wish to find out what happens when you make a mistake._

_I can only try my best, _Murtagh growled, _I'm not a hairdresser._

He started to hack at Ashen's hair with his dagger. She stiffened and he got the distinct impression that Thorn was right. He didn't want to find out what would happen if he made a mistake with cutting Ashen's hair. To him it didn't matter – it was only hair – yet for some reason, girls tended to be a bit stupid about this sort of thing.

"If you mess this up, Murtagh, I'm cutting your hair next." Ashen's tone was icy.

Murtagh didn't see what the problem was. He liked his hair how it was, but wouldn't mind a cut. Was that supposed to be a punishment?

"I'll cut it _off_. All of it."

_Oh. _Murtagh thought.

_You really do have a way with women, Murtagh._

When Murtagh was done, he pulled his gleaming steel armour from one of the sacks and Ashen frowned in consideration as she examined her reflection. She noticed how gaunt she looked. Her shorter hair made her look older and she could hardly recognise herself. Ashen was definitely more woman than girl now.

"What about you? You can't walk into Teirm as you are."

In response, Murtagh pulled a fake beard down over his face, instantly making him look at least ten years older than he actually was. Ashen couldn't help but laugh and even Thorn made a strange, growling noise that she assumed meant he was amused.

"What?" Murtagh demanded.

Ashen shook her head slowly. "Nothing. You just look…different."

It was decided that Thorn would wait outside Teirm with the Eldunari and Murtagh's armour until Murtagh contacted him. Murtagh also chose their cover story: he was a hunter from Carvahall, come to visit his cousin in Teirm. Ashen was his young wife. They had debated her being his sister, but not only did they look nothing alike, but there was more likely to be trouble if she posed as an unmarried woman.

When they approached the gates of Teirm, both Murtagh and Ashen were astonished when they realised that two elves were slinking around with cat-like grace. There were no sign of any other guards.

"Excuse me," Murtagh called to them, "We seek passage into Teirm. What has happened here? Are you the guards?"

The silver-haired elf nodded. "We are. Teirm is now under the command of Queen Islanzadi. You may enter the city, but if you are discovered to be a spy for Galbatorix, you will be killed immediately. Is that understood?"

Murtagh clenched his jaw. "Yes."

As they moved through the gates and into Teirm, Ashen's mind was racing. The elves were allied with the Varden. If they had managed to gain possession of the city, then things must be progressing well for the Varden. Murtagh looked more troubled than anything. His narrowed eyes kept darting suspiciously from side to side.

The beating of huge wings made the pair of them look up. A mighty dragon passed overhead and Ashen's eyes widened as she registered that it was green.

"Tristan," she whispered.

She broke into a run, following the dragon's path. Murtagh cursed and set off after her. Ashen's heart was thumping wildly in her chest as she ran over to where the green dragon had descended. That was Fafnir. He was so much bigger than the last time she'd seen him! She wondered if Tristan had undergone any physical changes.

She pushed through the crowd surrounding the green dragon, vying for a glimpse of her brother, just wanting to know that he was alive and well.

"Tristan!"

The young man in battle armour turned. There was a sword sheathed at his side and a quiver of arrows strapped to his back. He saw the blonde girl pushing through the crowd and recognised her instantly.

"Ashen!"

She streaked towards him, crying out in joy as she threw herself into his arms. He laughed shakily and hoisted his little sister up, spinning her around. When he set her down, they both examined each other.

Ashen was thinner than she had been, although not dangerously so. Her hair had been cut short, almost as short as a man's. When she smiled at him, he could see the pain in her eyes and he knew just by that that she had been tortured.

The opposite could be said for Tristan. He had always been quite small and slim for his age, but now he had built up some muscle. He looked good, better than Ashen had ever seen him. His features were slightly slanted now, like an elf's.

"You're alive," he muttered, reaching out to touch her cheek, "But…how did you escape Uru'baen?"

The answer came pushing his way through the crowd. Ashen and Tristan both stared at the man, before he peeled away the beard and threw it into the dirt. His grey eyes were hard, challenging Tristan.

"Murtagh."


	18. Burn

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Burn**

"_I've found a reason for me_

_To change who I used to be_

_A reason to start over new_

_And the reason is you."_

_- The Reason, Hoobastank_

* * *

Ashen picked at her nails uncomfortably, acutely aware of the fact that Murtagh and Tristan were both sending each other death glares over the top of her head. Things had been tense between them since they had first encountered each other, but there wasn't time for rivalry now.

The three of them were in a meeting, along with Thorn, Fafnir, Delia and her dragon Aziza, Queen Islanzadi, and Vanir. There was a bitter expression on Murtagh's face. He knew that no one here apart from Ashen trusted him.

"Powerful as Eragon may be, he will require assistance in taking Dras-Leona," Islanzadi stated, her piercing eyes landing on Murtagh, "This is where you, Morzan's son, can prove yourself."

Murtagh scowled. "My name is Murtagh."

Tristan was frowning, glaring across at the young Rider.

_I don't trust him, Fafnir._

_Perhaps you should give him a chance before you form an opinion. _Fafnir's reply was as logical as ever.

Of course, the dragons could not fit inside the castle where Risthart had once lived, when he had ruled Teirm. The three of them lingered outside in the courtyard, its vastness conveyed by the fact that three dragons could fit in it.

"You and Thorn, along with Ashen, will go to Belatona. From there, you will accompany the Varden north towards Dras-Leona."

"What?" Tristan was on his feet immediately, glowering across at Murtagh, "I don't have a problem with him going with Thorn, but he's not taking Ashen with him."

Ashen shook her head and sighed.

"Tristan, don't be ridiculous. You know I can fight."

"That's beside the point!" snapped Tristan, jabbing an accusing finger at Murtagh. The other Rider was watching him with an angry look coming over his face. "He was the one who brought you to Uru'baen in the first place. You thought you could trust him once, Ashen…and it turned out that you were wrong."

Murtagh bared his teeth, his hand on the hilt of Zar'roc. He could feel the disgust emanating from Tristan.

"The king knew my true name. I didn't mean to betray you. Why do you think I'm here? My true name has changed. Ashen would understand. It's because of her that I am free of Galbatorix."

Tristan drew Sundavar, pointing it at Murtagh. Hatred was etched into his features as he advanced on the older Rider.

"You hurt my sister," Tristan hissed, sounding menacing, "I know she has been tortured. Do not try and lie to me, spawn of Morzan."

Murtagh wanted to draw Zar'roc, except Thorn would have none of it.

_He is upset because of what befell Ashen. Violence will do nothing but make the matter worse. You need to talk to him, Murtagh._

_Talk to him? _Murtagh responded incredulously. _He wants to kill me!_

_That is because he thinks you have done something you haven't. Explain to him what really happened. I'm sure that Ashen will side with you on this matter. She knows you have done nothing to harm her._

"I wasn't the one who tortured her," Murtagh retorted, "I would rip the heart out of the one who did. He is one of Galbatorix's pet magicians."

"It's true," Ashen piped up, crossing over to her brother. He lowered his sword slightly. "He never harmed me, Tristan. We can trust him."

Tristan was torn between his disdain for Murtagh and his love for his sister. Ashen would never lie to him. Reluctantly, he pushed Sundavar back into its sheath. Ashen smiled tightly and turned to face Murtagh.

"I will go to Belatona."

Tristan was not Ashen's older brother for no reason. He saw the way Murtagh looked at her. Normally, the young Rider was full of anger and bitterness, yet when he glanced across at Ashen…it was different. He realised the truth immediately. _He's in love with her._

To think he'd entertained the notion that Ashen and Eragon would develop feelings for each other! Tristan did not know the extent of his sister's feelings for Murtagh. If she loved him, too, it could lead to complications. Despite Murtagh's pleas of innocence, Tristan still did not trust him.

* * *

When Zander had got word that Teirm was under the control of the elves, he had decided to investigate the situation for himself. Sure enough, two elves patrolled in front of the gates. He smiled to himself, cracking his knuckles. The real reason he was at Teirm wasn't only because of the rumours. A red dragon had been sighted near the city and Zander had no doubt in his mind that it was Thorn – which meant that Murtagh was there. If Murtagh was there…Ashen would be with him.

Zander sat down and thought hard. He could not just stroll into Teirm. Being one of Galbatorix's favourites did have its downsides, one of them being that he would be recognised, even by elves. He had to somehow distract everyone in Teirm while he came after Ashen. If the gossip was correct, two other Riders – most likely Eragon and Tristan – were also in Teirm. He had no wish to encounter _any _Riders.

Then it came to Zander. He grinned and clambered to his feet, pointing his hand at Teirm and concentrating on the city as a whole. This would take a lot of effort, but Zander was powerful. His eyes glittered as he whispered the word.

"Brisingr."

It only took a minute. Screams started ringing out from the city and Zander muttered the word several more times, lighting up different parts of Teirm. Better to burn the place down than have it in the possession of the elves. The chaos continued and the elf guards disappeared into the city, clearly wondering what had happened. The fire started to rage out of control. Zander lifted his arms up into the air, threw back his head and laughed maniacally as Teirm burned.

* * *

Ashen exited the castle to see the devastation that had gripped Teirm. Her eyes widened as she saw the flames everywhere. This could be no accident. Someone was after them and her heart sank as she observed the pandemonium. The others looked just as horrified as she felt.

"We have to get people out of here," Delia's tone was commanding, "There are women and children in the city."

Tristan nodded, his eyes narrowing against the rising smoke.

"We could get some out on the dragons. Aziza is big enough to take half a dozen."

Delia's piercing eyes roved over Tristan for a moment, before she nodded. She and Tristan hurried down to the courtyard where the dragons were, and Murtagh turned to face Ashen. There was a determined gleam in his eyes.

"This is my chance to prove myself," he told her, "Come on. I'll take you out with the first…"

Ashen shook her head fervently. "No. I can look after myself. Save those you can." Murtagh looked hesitant, but Ashen's expression became fierce and he knew she was serious. She embraced him fiercely, pressing her face into his chest.

"Be careful," she instructed, kissing him quickly on the lips – just as Tristan rounded the corner to see what was taking Murtagh so long. He marched over to confront Ashen, a stern look coming over his face.

"What is going on?" he demanded, for a moment oblivious to the flames that licked at Teirm, "Ashen, I don't know what his intentions are now, but he is still a traitor."

Hurt flashed through Murtagh's eyes and he turned and stomped off, in Thorn's direction. Ashen fixed her brother with a steely glare.

"I love him," she said simply.

Whatever Tristan had been expecting, it hadn't been that. He blinked and observed his sister with shock for a moment, before whirling around and marching back the way he'd come. In his mind, he was seething.

_They're in love, Fafnir! My sister and a traitor!_

_You're too harsh on Murtagh,_ Fafnir reprimanded him, _Besides, you can't choose who you fall in love with. You know that better than anyone, based on your feelings for Delia._

Tristan groaned inwardly. _I don't want to talk about that right now._

_Good, _Fafnir approved of this, _Then focus on saving the people of Teirm._

* * *

Ashen felt that she was suffocating as she watched Teirm burning. She didn't think she had ever felt so helpless. She saw the dragons moving in and out of the city and could only hope that they managed to rescue everyone.

"I didn't think Murtagh would be stupid enough to leave you alone, but it looks as though I was wrong."

Ashen whirled around, drawing her sword at pointing it at Zander. He stood only feet away from her, a smirk on his face as he looked out at the fire that had claimed Teirm.

"Like it?"

Ashen shouldn't have been surprised. Had she expected Galbatorix to just let Murtagh go? Zander was obviously here to recapture him, and the fire he'd started had been to wreak destruction and keep everyone busy.

"He's not here," Ashen sneered at Zander. She was no longer a helpless prisoner in the dungeons of Uru'baen. She did not fear him anymore. "It looks like you're out of luck, Zander."

The magician blinked, his green eyes suddenly confused. Then he threw back his head and laughed delightedly. Ashen thought he was after _Murtagh._ Oh, how wrong she was!

"I'm not here for the Rider."

It was Ashen's turn to be puzzled. "Well then, what are you here for?"

Zander grinned and Ashen was too distracted by the malevolence in his expression to notice the black magic gathering at his fingertips.

"I'm here for you. _Risa._"

Ashen felt herself jerked off her feet and suddenly she was suspended over the battlements. It took all her strength to convince herself not to look down. She kicked uselessly as Zander took a step forward, palm raised towards her.

"I thought you were supposed to be intelligent," he laughed, "So tell me, Ashen – why would Galbatorix possibly want you alive?"

Ashen felt dread come over her as she thought about it. It must be because of Tristan. Galbatorix would know that the young Rider would never risk his sister. Tristan would swear himself to the king if it meant keeping Ashen alive.

"Because of Tristan."

Zander nodded slowly, a manic grin lighting his features. Ashen felt her stomach lurch. She knew that this man was insane and that was she was scared of. It wasn't _him _she feared – it was the fact that he was so mad she didn't know what he was capable of.

"You're close. That's one part of it. Think hard. Think about someone who would die for you. Someone whose name starts with an M."

_Murtagh._

Galbatorix would have not one, but _two_ Riders serving him. Ashen struggled against the hold of Zander's magic, although she knew she was powerless. Murtagh had already told her that she stood no chance against Zander.

"Where's your precious Rider now?" Zander mocked, "You are pathetic. You couldn't even save your own skin."

Ashen swallowed, finding the strength to speak.

"Put me down and draw your sword, and soon you won't have skin to save."

Zander seemed to consider this. His moment of hesitation was all it took. Ashen raised her hand and pointed it at him.

"_Garjzla,_" she gasped.

The cerise light flew from her hand and smacked Zander in the chest. He was thrown several feet backwards, resulting in him releasing the magic that had held Ashen prisoner. She hit the ground hard, the wind knocked clean out of her.

Zander chuckled and clapped his hands slowly. "So you are more of a fighter than I had expected. A magician…I certainly didn't expect that."

Ashen knew she had to get up and run as fast as she could – but her head was throbbing and everything ached. She was drained from the energy she had used to strike Zander, and falling three feet hadn't helped matters.

Tears – those liquid pools of failure – welled in Ashen's eyes as Zander crouched down beside her, running a hand through his silver-blond hair. She wanted to struggle, yet there was no energy left in her body to try.

"Get away from her."

Ashen knew that voice, filled with loathing and fury. She managed to lift her head, hope lending her strength. Murtagh stood with Zar'roc pointed at Zander and Thorn flew over him, growling threateningly.

Zander realised the precarious position he was in immediately. If he did not surrender Ashen, Murtagh would surely kill him. He stood up and backed away, hands held up as if in protest. He smiled and shook his head.

"You win now, Rider…but you won't next time."

Zander turned and ran. Murtagh did not attempt to stop him. Instead, he crossed over to Ashen and helped her to her feet. His grey eyes were hard, indicating that he was not impressed by what had occurred.

"What did he do to you?" Murtagh demanded, grabbing Ashen by the wrist and inspecting her arm. Ashen snatched her hand back.

"I'm fine," she insisted, "I used magic to drive him back – and it weakened me."

Murtagh growled in anger as he gripped his hair in his hands. Thorn landed a little way off and they started walking towards him.

"What did I tell you about fighting him, Ashen? He could have killed you! What were you thinking?"

"He wasn't here to kill me." Ashen replied coolly, annoyed at being reprimanded. She and Murtagh clambered onto Thorn's back and the dragon launched himself into the air. "He was trying to capture me. He said something about using me to turn you and Tristan over to Galbatorix."

From here, they could see the destruction that had befallen Teirm. The entire city was up in flames. It would be a miracle if anything survived. Ashen shivered, recognising for the first time the extent of Zander's power.

Murtagh sounded troubled when he finally spoke. "Then you're in more danger than I thought."

* * *

A red dragon flew over Belatona and immediately, everyone was on alert. Eragon clutched at Brisingr's hilt as he watched from Saphira's back. He was overcome by cold trepidation, wondering what would happen.

_They've come for us._

_I don't think so._ Saphira was thoughtful. _Look, Eragon. They've landed. Murtagh's getting off Thorn's back. I think he wishes to speak with you._

Eragon reluctantly slid off Saphira's back, his grip never easing on Brisingr. He noticed that the portcullis had been closed behind him and he frowned. Did Lucian really think that would stop Murtagh from getting into the city, if that was what he wanted? As Eragon walked towards Murtagh and Thorn, he noticed that the Rider clad in steel armour was reaching out and helping a second person off Thorn's back.

_Wait, who is that with them, Saphira? I can't tell from here._

Saphira sounded shocked. _It's Ashen!_

Eragon could hardly believe it. It had been months since Ashen had vanished, kidnapped by Murtagh from the outskirts of Surda. Now she was here with her captor. Eragon's brows knitted into a frown. Would Murtagh attempt to use Ashen to lure Eragon to Uru'baen? He didn't quite understand.

"Let her go, Murtagh." Eragon's tone was hard as he closed the distance between himself and the red Rider. He observed Ashen. She looked – different. Her hair was shorter, and there was something older about her face. Maybe it was the grimness in her eyes.

"I assure you, she's here of her own free will." When Eragon's eyes narrowed in suspicion, Murtagh added: "_Eka ai fricai un Shur'tugal_."

Eragon flinched as though he had been slapped. There could be no way that Murtagh was lying, not in the ancient language…yet he wasn't here to capture him and Saphira? Eragon still fixed his brother with an accusing glance. Murtagh's expression turned bitter.

"Don't believe me then, _brother_," he spat, sick of being mistrusted for something that wasn't his fault, "Ashen can confirm what I say."

The blonde girl stepped forward. Her eyes glimmered with happiness at seeing Eragon again and she opened her mouth to say something, before promptly throwing herself into the younger Rider's arms.

"I have missed you."

Eragon laughed and gripped Ashen by the shoulders, examining her carefully. Despite the joy in her face now, there was something haunted that lingered in the depths of her eyes. He could tell when someone was struggling to conceal their inner torment, and that was definitely what Ashen was doing.

"And I you."

Murtagh watched their exchange with an almost sour look about his face. As Eragon released Ashen, he realised why that was.

_He's jealous. _

_It would seem that Murtagh has become attached to Ashen, _Saphira remarked.

"Please listen to Murtagh," sighed Ashen, turning and glancing over her shoulder at the dark-haired Rider, "He has been nothing but kind to me, even in Uru'baen. You see…he managed to change his true name, Eragon. That is why we were able to escape. He comes to you now as a free man."

Eragon's attitude towards Murtagh didn't change. He thought it would probably be a while before it did. Although his older half-brother might be trying to prove himself, the past always influenced the present. A nerve twitched in Murtagh's cheek as he saw the younger Rider's doubt.

"I'll take you to Nasuada, then," Eragon relented, "She can decide whether she wishes you to join our cause or not. We could use another Rider…though not one like you. Know that I don't do this for your sake, Murtagh."

Murtagh turned to glance at Ashen, who was watching the two of them with a concerned expression on her face. A bleak smile lit his features and he laughed mirthlessly.

"Oh, I see. You're doing this for Ashen."

Ashen shook her head slowly and reached for the Rider's arm. "Murtagh…"

He jerked free of her grasp and stomped back towards Thorn. Hurt flashed through Ashen's eyes.

"Fine," Murtagh snapped at Eragon, "If you don't need me, I will leave. See how long you last against Galbatorix while I still have the Eldunari."

Eragon's attitude changed in a second, his face paling slightly.

"What…what did you say?"


	19. Battle of DrasLeona

**CHAPTER NINETEEN: Battle of Dras-Leona**

"_Keep holding on, _

_Coz you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through_

_Just stay strong,_

_Coz you know I'm here for you, I'm here for you."_

_- Keep Holding On, Avril Lavigne_

* * *

Murtagh had told them everything he knew of Galbatorix and the Eldunari. While this had not earned the Varden's trust, they were at least willing to give him a chance. Along with Eragon, Murtagh would attack Dras-Leona from the air.

None of them doubted that this would be their hardest battle yet. Dras-Leona was heavily fortified and spies had confirmed the reports that the Shade Mordecai would be assisting Lord Samiel. On the bright side, however, they had gained an ally.

The elves moved west for Uru'baen – and so far, Galbatorix was still unaware of Delia's existence. Ashen doubted that this would last much longer. Zander had most likely seen her and Aziza when he had burned Teirm.

Ashen was under Roran's command. She worked well with him – she had been put with him in the past. As two dragons swooped in over the city, she was forced to watch from the ground. Ashen swallowed her trepidation and gripped the hilt of her sword tight.

Eragon and Murtagh dropped to the ground and crept through the streets. Nasuada had decided that an attack during the night would be more unexpected, so the archers kept aiming for Saphira and Thorn, not knowing the Riders were not on their dragons' backs. Eragon didn't quite know what to think about working with Murtagh – they had accomplished many things in the past, but that had been before Murtagh had been the king's right-hand man.

As they reached the portcullis, a shiver ran down Eragon's spine as he realized that it was already open. He whirled around to face Murtagh, who was looking just as confused as he felt. Sudden, mocking laughter made both Riders whip around and draw their swords.

A Shade stood watching them, a delighted smile spread across his pale face. He was young for one of his kind – no older than his mid-twenties. Both Riders knew that this must be Mordecai. He strode towards them casually, eyes gleaming.

"How naïve you both are," Mordecai chuckled, "You really thought that Dras-Leona would be unprepared for a night raid? You must be more stupid than I'd thought."

Murtagh bared his teeth and held Zar'roc higher, evidently not pleased at having his intelligence insulted.

"Why would they need guards when they have me?"

He spread his hands wide and Eragon realised that he was extremely arrogant, more so than Durza and Varaug. Perhaps that arrogance could be his undoing. Eragon licked his lips, attempting to buy more time.

_Saphira! You need to alert Roran and the others. They need to know what's happening._

"I've already killed two of your kind," Eragon informed Mordecai, "You seem likely to become number three."

Mordecai just observed the pair of them with a smirk.

"So this is what the Riders have become? Over-confident teenage boys lacking in brains? Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

Murtagh frowned. "You can talk. You're hardly older than us. You wouldn't even have known the Riders."

The Shade's grin was nasty. "Appearances can be deceiving, boy." He looked straight at Eragon with nothing but contempt in his maroon eyes. "Look at you. You are the Varden's greatest hope and you are nothing more than a common farm boy." He turned to sneer at Murtagh. "And you…oh, the king knows all about your little romance."

Murtagh suddenly went cold. Of course, he hadn't expected to keep Ashen a secret forever…yet the last thing he wanted was Galbatorix knowing about her. It made sense to him now. That was why Zander had been sent out. How had he been so stupid? He'd thought it was only the magician who knew the truth, but apparently it was Galbatorix now as well.

"I hear she's terrified of Shades." Mordecai was relentless, attempting to drive the daggers of his words deeper in Murtagh's heart. "Perhaps I should meet her."

Murtagh's control snapped and he lashed out at Mordecai. He lunged so fast that Eragon – who had fought Murtagh before and knew that he was practically unbeatable – expected that he would get Mordecai in the heart. The Shade laughed and took a nimble step backwards. He may not be as powerful as Murtagh physically, but he was faster.

"Nice try, Rider."

Mordecai immediately raised his palm level with Murtagh's chest. "_Jierda._"

There was a horrible snapping sound and Murtagh hissed in pain. Eragon watched him spit out blood and realised with disbelief that a few of his ribs must be broken. How could he withstand the pain? Eragon shuddered to think what Murtagh must have experienced in Uru'baen to allow him to suffer such an injury and still stand. While the Shade was distracted, he raised his hand towards the sky and gave the signal.

"_Garjzla."_

Blue light exploded above him like a firework.

* * *

"We have to finish what we started." Tynan sounded deadly serious, perhaps even vengeful. Brynja and Nolfavrell exchanged uneasy glances. The three of them had fought their way into the city and now Tynan was expressing a desire to become a Shadeslayer again. After what had happened last time, Brynja wasn't sure that was such a good idea.

"I think we should just leave him to Eragon and Murtagh…"

Tynan shook his head vigorously, blue eyes burning. "Murtagh is wounded – by the Shade. Thorn had to evacuate him."

Brynja's eyes narrowed. "Well, Eragon, then." To be honest, she did not want to go hunting Shades. They were here to capture Dras-Leona, not kill Mordecai. She could understand why Tynan wanted the Shade dead, because she did too…but they did not have to be the ones to kill him.

Nolfavrell was frowning in concentration. Brynja sighed heavily, knowing that he would be won over by the older boy's argument. Tynan could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.

"We stand a better chance," he concluded finally.

Brynja folded her arms across her chest. "Oh? Why is that?"

Nolfavrell wouldn't look her in the eye. "Because we're not the only ones trying to kill him."

There was a tense silence, before a new voice spoke up.

"You know, as amusing as you three plotting my death is, I doubt you actually have the courage to carry through with it."

Brynja felt as though her lungs had been robbed of air as she spun around. Mordecai lounged casually against the wall of one of the houses. There were no weapons on his person and he spread his arms wide, daring them to attack him. After exchanging a hesitant glance with Brynja, Tynan whipped a dagger from his belt and threw it at the Shade.

Usually, magic was his primary weapon, but it would be better if Mordecai was injured. The dagger struck the Shade in the shoulder blade and he snarled like an angry cat before pulling the weapon from him.

"You think to kill me with this?" His amusement sounded forced. "You stupid, stupid boy."

Brynja saw the sudden flash in the Shade's maroon eyes as he raised the dagger and she shot Nolfavrell a horrified glance. Mordecai chuckled darkly and threw the dagger right back at Tynan.

The young magician didn't stand a chance. Mordecai was just too fast. He raised his hand, eyes widening with shock, and barked: "_Letta!_"

Too late. The dagger had already pierced Tynan's heart and the magic faltered and died in his hand. Brynja could hear a loud, high-pitched scream – and realised that it was emanating from her. Tynan swallowed thickly and then collapsed.

Brynja was breathing fast as she looked down on Tynan's motionless body. He had been the most powerful of the three of them. By themselves, she and Nolfavrell did not stand a chance. The younger boy stepped forward as if to confront the Shade, but Brynja grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back.

"No, don't."

Her vision was suddenly blurred with tears and she tried to muffle her choked sobs. Mordecai watched her and Nolfavrell, but made no attempt to stop them. For Brynja, that was even worse. It meant that to the Shade, they weren't worth the effort of killing. He didn't even view them as a threat.

Mordecai smirked as he watched the girl and the younger boy retreat. He nudged the dead young magician aside with his foot, before he swaggered casually down the street. It did not matter that fighting was going on everywhere. He was a Shade and therefore had nothing to fear. His heightened senses would alert him if he was in danger.

Mordecai saw the commotion down the end of the street. Two Imperial soldiers were fighting a blonde girl. Despite her smaller size, she was agile and the way she fought almost made it look as though she was dancing. She twisted and ducked and within moments, both soldiers had fallen. Then the girl turned and he recognised her immediately.

It was Ashen. She froze when she saw Mordecai and suddenly all the fight went out of her. She still gripped her sword tightly in her hand – yet when the Shade advanced on her, she didn't even move. Perhaps she hoped if she stood still for long enough, she would become invisible. When Mordecai looked at her, her eyes were blazing with fear.

"So you are the one they all talk about." He paced around her like a hunter stalking its prey. "You are the key to bringing the Riders to Galbatorix."

Ashen glared at the Shade with loathing. She wanted nothing more than to kill him – yet for some reason, her arms and legs weren't obeying her commands. If he had wanted her dead, he could have killed her easily.

"You are afraid." Mordecai reached out and scraped a sharp nail down Ashen's cheek. Whatever spell had held her in check, it was immediately broken. Danger flashed in the girl's eyes and she bared her teeth, gripping the Shade's wrist tight.

"I'm not too afraid to kill you," she hissed.

Mordecai chuckled. Even without a sword, he could defeat this girl. She lunged at him, but even though her movements were fast, to him they seemed sluggish. A normal human could not hope to best him. He could see by the fire in her dark blue eyes that she was driven by her anger, her loathing of Shades.

"Do I remind you of him?" Mordecai asked of her, still smiling, "Do I remind you of the Shade who killed your brother?"

Ashen slashed at him again, trying not to let her rage control her. How _dare_ Mordecai speak about Colton! She could feel her stomach twisting in hatred and a wild cry escaped her as she leapt at him again. The Shade raised his hand and muttered something and suddenly a searing pain shot down Ashen's right arm. She dropped her sword.

"Foolish girl," Mordecai shook his head slowly, "You think you stand any more chance against me than you did against Durza? I could _destroy_ you…too bad the king wants you alive."

There was a nasty cut on Ashen's arm when she examined herself. Blood started to trickle down and spatter on the ground. She reached down for her sword, trying to ignore the stinging pain. Except when she stood upright, Mordecai was not looking at her.

Eragon stood there, Brisingr bathed in blue flames as he advanced on the Shade. His dark eyes were alight.

"Do you wish to meet your brother's fate?" taunted Mordecai, "Stay out of this, little Rider."

While the Shade's attention was focused on Eragon, Ashen struck. She drove her sword straight towards Mordecai, except he whipped around and it caught him the other side of his chest. She had not got him in the heart.

Mordecai gritted his teeth in pain and pulled the sword from him, tossing it to the ground. He had started to waver and Ashen knew he would fade. She felt bitter that she had only succeeded in making him stronger.

"I'll be back," the Shade warned her, "When I am, you will be sorry."

As he vanished, Ashen sighed heavily and turned to face Eragon. He lowered Brisingr and the flames disappeared as he sheathed the blade. He walked across to her and gripped her shoulders, examining her critically.

"Are you alright, Ashen? You've gone all pale. You look terrified."

Her breath rattled out from between her lips. "Of course I'm terrified, Eragon. I was just confronted by a Shade."

He gripped her wrist and inspected the cut on her wrist. Ashen's eyes widened as she realised it was starting to turn a nasty green colour. Eragon looked troubled.

"It may be infected. Come, Roran's managed to capture Lord Samiel."

Eragon released Ashen and she felt elated and yet scared, knowing that they were one step closer to taking Uru'baen. Suddenly, she remembered Mordecai's words about Eragon meeting the same fate as his brother, and her blood ran cold.

"What happened to Murtagh?" she demanded, "Is…is he alright?"

Eragon nodded and glanced down at Ashen's arm in concern. It was covered in a glove of blood and Ashen found herself overcome by a wave of dizziness. She stumbled and Eragon rushed towards her.

"Ashen!"

"I'm fine," she retorted, stepping out of his grasp.

Then everything went black.


	20. You Just Have To Survive

**CHAPTER TWENTY: You Just Have To Survive**

"_I wanted you to know, _

_I love the way you laugh_

_I want to hold you high_

_And steal your pain away."_

_- Broken, Seether_

* * *

Murtagh felt soft fingers rhythmically running through his hair as he came to his senses. For a few moments, he was content to lie there with his eyes closed. It felt soothing as his hair was brushed back from his face. When he opened his eyes, he was not in the least surprised to see Ashen sitting over him with a slight smile on her face. He was, however, astonished to see the cast around her right arm.

"You look so innocent when you're asleep," she stated blatantly.

Murtagh sat up, pulling the blankets back to see the bandages wrapped around his torso. His chest was bare as he wore no shirt. He reached across and gently gripped Ashen's wrist, pulling her to him.

"Who did this to you?" There was a hint of menace in his voice, although he was currently in no position to go and fight anyone.

"Mordecai." Ashen felt there was no point procrastinating. "His sword was poisoned. I had a fever for days."

Murtagh was suddenly aware that he must have been out for some time.

"How long have I been unconscious?"

Ashen shrugged. "Five days. We're moving north for Uru'baen soon."

Murtagh sat up straighter, but a concerned look flashed across Ashen's face and she flattened her palms against his chest, attempting to push him back down. Murtagh couldn't help but smirk as her cheeks flamed red.

"Are you trying to molest me while I'm injured?"

Ashen sighed heavily, ignoring his joking around. "Murtagh, you should be lying down. Those ribs are still broken, you know."

Murtagh wasn't listening. He'd been injured plenty before and he would be damned if he would let the Shade's work keep him abed. He struggled to sit up and Ashen sat back, a wry look about her face as she realised that there was no stopping Murtagh from doing as he pleased.

"I was so worried about you," Ashen admitted, examining her fingernails, "The healers didn't know how long it would take for you to recover."

She looked across at Murtagh, who was still trying to sit up straight, wincing at the pain that it brought. Her eyes hardened and she shook her head.

"Just stop! You are hurt."

Murtagh shrugged. "Since when has that stopped me?"

Ashen scowled and clambered over the bed to him, attempting to forcibly push him back down. Then, somehow her lips were pressed to his and she was kissing him fiercely. Murtagh groaned – although Ashen wasn't sure if this was in pleasure or the pain in his ribs. She shivered, his breath hot on her neck.

"You're so stupid," Ashen whispered, her voice hoarse as Murtagh trailed kisses down her neck, "So stupid…" Except it was hard to concentrate with his hand sliding under her shirt, tracing over the bare skin of her stomach. It sent a thrill of delight running up her spine, although she knew that they shouldn't be doing this.

"Am I interrupting something?" A cold voice asked.

Eragon and Tristan stood at the entrance to the tent. Murtagh quickly withdrew his hand and Ashen slid away from him. It might have been alright it was just Eragon…but with Tristan there, she couldn't even look at him.

"That kind of behaviour is out of line," Eragon scolded, almost as if he was the older brother and not Murtagh, "You should both know better. That is unacceptable in a medical tent."

Murtagh laughed and raked his hair out of his eyes.

"Why do you care so much, Eragon? Are you jealous?"

Ashen turned and shot him a warning glance, but he ignored it. Finally, all the bitterness Murtagh felt for his brother came spilling out. It had always been Eragon who had got the better lot in life.

"Is it because I've finally got something you want?" Murtagh mocked, his grey eyes flashing dangerously, "Do you wish that it was you kissing her instead? You always got everything, little brother. Now you want the woman I love as well?"

Eragon reached for Brisingr, his eyes gleaming with fury. Tristan shot him a glance and he relaxed, although only slightly.

"You know very well that I am not interested in Ashen in that way," Eragon replied icily, "I think you should be resting. You have a lot of healing to do before we get to Uru'baen."

He turned on his heel and marched from the tent. Murtagh reluctantly lay back with a frustrated sigh. He did not look pleased. Tristan still stood there, his stern gaze resting on Ashen.

"I must speak with you outside."

His tone was curt. Ashen bit her lip and looked at Murtagh, but he was deliberately avoiding her gaze. She could just tell that she was in trouble. When she ducked under the tent flap, Tristan was already pacing outside. His eyes were angry as he turned to glower at Ashen.

"Just what do you think you are playing at?" he demanded of her. "I never thought you were the kind to demonstrate such immaturity, Ashen."

Ashen frowned. "We were just kissing."

"Just kissing?" spat Tristan, whirling around to face her, "I _saw _where his hands were, Ashen."

Her eyes narrowed. "He loves me, Tristan."

Her older brother shook his head slowly in disbelief. "Is that what he told you? I know you think he's handsome, Ashen. But that man is bad news. I think we _both _know what he wants from you. He was all over you."

Ashen's cheeks grew hot and she knew she must be turning red. So far, she and Murtagh had done nothing but kiss. He had never suggested going any further.

"You're wrong."

"I won't sit by and watch this happen!" exclaimed Tristan, his hands clenching into fists. "I will not watch you become a whore for Morzan's son." Ashen flinched as though she'd been slapped. "I am your older brother, Ashen, and I forbid this."

Sullen tears streamed down her cheeks. She never would have thought it before, but Murtagh was one of the best things that had happened to her. At first she hadn't understood the demons he faced. Gradually he'd opened up and she had learned to trust him. He loved her because she saw past the fact that he was Morzan's son, because she accepted him for who he was.

"I don't expect you to understand love," Ashen hissed at her brother.

A nerve twitched in Tristan's forehead.

"This is not love," he snapped at her, "This is your infatuation with a young man who will only hurt you. You've become such a silly girl, taken in by Murtagh's wiles. He only wants one thing from you and once he's got it, he will push you aside."

Ashen was seething. "You just don't understand him, Tristan. When are you going to stop seeing him as evil? You are only two years older than me and you can't tell me that you understand love. I've seen the way you stare at Delia when you think no one is watching you. It's _pathetic._"

She made to stalk past him, but Tristan grabbed her by the arm and whirled her around.

"You are not to associate with him in a romantic manner, Ashen. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

Ashen smiled sourly. "What if I told you I was going to make love to him in my tent tonight?" She was lying, but she just wanted to see the expression on Tristan's face. He was shocked, before he realised she was mocking him and he pushed her away.

"I mean it, Ashen. Stay away from him."

Ashen snickered. "You think you can control me. You just want me to fall in love with Eragon, don't you? Sorry it can't work out all according to your plans, Tristan. I'm sorry you are so blind that you cannot see Murtagh has changed."

* * *

Ten days had passed since they had captured Dras-Leona. As with Belatona and Feinster, a small group had been left behind to ensure that things continued to run smoothly. Every day brought them closer to Uru'baen and everyone was filled with dread. The end of the war was nearing – yet no one could tell what the result would be.

Tristan and Ashen still weren't talking, and everyone had warily noted the tension between the two siblings. Right now, the newest Rider just wanted a break from all of it. He knew what would be expected of him and the others once they reached Uru'baen. Eragon had told him about the Eldunari.

_What are we going to do, Fafnir? _Tristan thought desperately, pressing his face into his dragon's emerald green scales. _I could lose everything. I've lost Colton and I feel as though I'm losing Ashen as well._

_You're not trying very hard to see things from her point of view, _Fafnir pointed out, _She feels very strongly about Murtagh._

_Yes, but he's Morzan's son and he's betrayed us once before. What if Galbatorix sent him here as a spy? He could be our undoing! Besides, Morzan just used women. I would not be surprised if Murtagh was the same._

Fafnir sounded exasperated. _Tristan, don't you think he's got that sort of attitude enough? His whole life, Murtagh has been seen as if he was Morzan…when he clearly isn't. You can forbid Ashen from seeing him all you want, but you know she will defy you._

"Tristan?"

He turned around to see Delia walking towards him and Fafnir. Aziza stood behind her, observing them with dispassionate purple eyes. Tristan's heart somersaulted as the elf Rider came up to him and he immediately chastised himself…except he couldn't help what he felt.

"You have not been speaking with Ashen lately," Delia pointed out, "Is something the matter?"

Tristan didn't know if he wanted to go through all of this again – but he did. He told Delia everything. He told her his suspicions about Murtagh, how Ashen refused to see reason. The elf was quiet for some time, contemplating what he had said.

"Did you ever think perhaps Ashen is right?" she replied quietly.

Tristan's eyes widened. "What?"

Delia sighed heavily. "I do not know Murtagh well, but I can see that despite his bitterness, he is a good man. He does not mean your sister or anyone else of the Varden any harm. The only reason he continues to dislike you so is because you and Eragon are constantly treating him with contempt and comparing him to the man he hates most. A son does not choose his father."

_She speaks sense, _Fafnir admitted. _You and Eragon really need to cut Murtagh some slack._

Tristan cleared his throat, averting his eyes. He felt embarrassed for asking, but he wanted to know before they reached Uru'baen. No one could tell what would happen once they were there.

"What…what of your feelings, Delia?"

Delia stiffened and Tristan braced himself, preparing to be chastised – but when she turned to face him, her purple eyes were glittering with tears. He was shocked; he didn't think he had ever seen an elf cry before.

"I…don't know." She looked miserable as she glanced back at Aziza. "You and Vanir are both dear friends to me. I don't think I've been so uncertain in my life…I just…"

Words failed Delia for once and then she was crying on Tristan's shoulder. For an elf, she was still so young. She was confused about her feelings concerning her young human apprentice and her childhood friend. Tristan was just as conflicted at that moment. With the woman he loved sobbing into his shoulder, he felt like he had won and lost at the same time.

* * *

"I thought Tristan told you to stay away from me," Murtagh stated bluntly as Ashen entered the medical tent. The healer who had been keeping an eye on him looked from Murtagh to Ashen while a sly smile on her face and muttered some excuse to leave. Ashen shrugged as she came over to sit down on the end of the bed.

"I don't always listen to my brother."

Murtagh examined her closely. Ever since they had left Uru'baen, she had been getting better. She was not as thin as she had been and he was glad of this. She was starting to heal and get over all that she had endured. Ashen glanced curiously at the bandages encircling Murtagh's torso.

"Can…can I see?"

Murtagh frowned. "It's not a pretty sight."

Ashen raised her eyebrows. "You think I've never seen battle wounds before?"

Murtagh reluctantly started removing the bandages, unwinding them until they fell away, exposing the mess of bruises that was his torso. Ashen sucked in her breath and leaned forward, placing her hands on Murtagh's wounds. He hissed in pain and she leant back.

"Sorry. It looks like it must hurt." She gnawed at her lip, before lowering her voice to a whisper. "Are you afraid, Murtagh?"

He knew she was talking about Uru'baen. To be honest, he was terrified – although he struggled to admit that even to himself. He had no wish to face Galbatorix's wrath, but he knew that was exactly what he had to do.

"Yes." He leaned closer to her, reaching out and tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I just want you to know, Ashen. Just in case I do not survive Uru'baen…"

She turned away. "Don't…"

"I love you. I have ever since we first met, when you did not care that I was Morzan's son."

Ashen blinked. She knew that Murtagh loved her…but since he had been a prisoner of the Varden? Instinctively, she placed a hand on the mess of bruises that made up Murtagh's torso.

"_Waise heill._"

Murtagh wanted to stop her, but it was too late. By the time she had finished, he was feeling a little better. The bruises were still there, but they were less prominent. Ashen sighed heavily and Murtagh knew the effort had exhausted her. That was when he realised that, despite her tough demeanour, she was very vulnerable.

"Whatever you do, stay away from Zander," he warned her, "Just promise me that."

Ashen looked at her fingernails. "I can't do that, Murtagh."

He leaned forward and gripped her arms. Ashen looked up and saw the desperation in his grey eyes. He was afraid of what the magician might do to her.

"Please, Ashen."

She closed her eyes in defeat. "I promise."


	21. I Will Tear Her Apart

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: I Will Tear Her Apart**

**A/N: Okay, well…there's something about Zander. I'm not sure if you clever ones have figured it out yet, but he has a…connection to someone. Let's see if you can work it out!**

* * *

"_Till everything burns, while everyone screams_

_Burning their lies, burning my dreams_

_All of this hate, and all of this pain_

_Burn it all down, as my anger reigns."_

_- Everything Burns, Ben Moody_

* * *

Murtagh knew something was horribly wrong the moment his eyes flickered open. They were now camped on the outskirts of Uru'baen, although the king was not aware of the Varden's presence yet. They attacked as soon as possible – for if they didn't, Galbatorix would surely assault them first. Over the days, Murtagh's ribs had healed completely and although he was still a little stiff, he would be no less formidable in battle.

Something was happening outside his tent. There was a harsh sound, like a slap. A woman snapped something, and a man laughed. Murtagh sat up straight, wondering what was going on.

_MURTAGH! _It was Thorn and he sounded shocked.

The young Rider stumbled from his tent, pulling his shirt over his head and grabbing Zar'roc on the way out. Thorn was standing nearby, tense. His teeth were bared and he was hissing angrily. For in front of him, a man with silver-blonde hair had a dagger pressed to the throat of a struggling girl.

It was Ashen. Her hair was messed up and there was blood on her face. She was sniffing and Murtagh realised she was trying to hold back tears. He ground his teeth and took a step towards Zander, who wound a hand through Ashen's hair and pressed her closer to him, a human shield. A line of blood started to well where the dagger pricked Ashen's throat.

"What do you want?" Murtagh spat, reluctantly lowering Zar'roc.

Zander's eyes flicked towards the blood-red sword. "Drop your toy and kick it over to me."

Murtagh hesitated, but Zander tugged on Ashen's hair and he threw the sword angrily into the dirt, kicking it over towards Zander. The magician used magic to make the sword rise – clearly, he was paranoid that Ashen would break free – and slid it into his belt.

"Now," Zander sounded satisfied, "We can actually talk like grown-ups. You did not really think Galbatorix would let you go, Murtagh?"

Murtagh did not speak as Zander laughed nastily. He was thinking hard.

_Thorn, what can I do? I don't even know what he wants, but he's using Ashen as a hostage for something. What happened?_

_I do not know, Murtagh. I just saw him dragging her from her tent. I would have woken the other dragons, but I feared he would kill her._

"It's very simple. The king only wishes to speak to you. I knew you would not comply, so I decided to…convince you a little."

Murtagh was concerned. Why would the king want to talk to him? How had Zander managed to infiltrate the camp and take Ashen without someone noticing? How did he even know where they were? Ashen's eyes were fierce, but Murtagh bowed his head, knowing that there was no real choice.

"Alright."

* * *

Murtagh's face was twisted with hatred as he observed the king. Galbatorix was pacing, clearly pleased with himself. Zander stood over to the side, watching Ashen closely in case she tried something. Murtagh had come to Uru'baen on Thorn and by the time he confronted the king, he knew it was already over.

"You will always be bound to me," Galbatorix told him, "After the Varden is destroyed, you will suffer for defying me…"

"Never," spat Murtagh, "My true name has changed. You can't force me to serve you."

Yet there was a sick feeling in his stomach, because he was beginning to understand why Ashen had been brought with them. He swallowed hard and glowered at Galbatorix, who turned and offered Zander a knowing smile.

"I think Murtagh requires a bit more persuasion."

Zander gripped Ashen by the arms, turning so that his back was to the others. Murtagh could not see what was happening, but there was a sudden cry of pain and he clenched his hands in fists. Galbatorix knew as well as Murtagh did that it was only a matter of time before he gave in. He could not stand by and watch the young woman he loved being tortured. There was another cry of pain, this one sharper than the first. It hit Murtagh like an arrow through the heart.

"Stop!" he exclaimed, so that both Zander and Galbatorix looked at him. His grey eyes were full of loathing as he glared across at the tyrant king. "I will do whatever you ask of me. Just…let her go."

A cruel smile crossed Galbatorix's face. Ashen moved forward and Murtagh could see the cuts on her arms, most likely inflicted by Zander's dagger. She was shaking her head, dark blue eyes full of horror.

"No, Murtagh, don't."

"Swear it in the ancient language," Galbatorix ordered, ignoring Ashen, "Swear that you will serve me as you did before."

Ashen ran towards Murtagh, but Zander caught her by the arms and started dragging her backwards, out of the throne room. She struggled desperately against his grasp, but he dug his nails into her biceps.

"Murtagh, please!"

The young Rider bowed his head. He would not let Ashen be harmed because of him. Slowly, he started to repeat his words in the ancient language, swearing that he would serve Galbatorix – he and Thorn.

Ashen was sobbing now, straining against Zander's grip. Murtagh forced himself not to listen to her cries of anguish. It sounded like her heart was breaking and he knew that was all his fault. No matter what he did, it would never be good enough.

"Now let her go," Murtagh demanded, looking up at Galbatorix through his dark hair.

The king laughed manically. "But how do I know you will keep your word, boy? You may have sworn in the ancient language, but there are always loopholes. No, Zander will take responsibility for Ashen."

Murtagh wanted to protest, yet somehow he couldn't find it in him. It felt like he was dead inside. It felt just like the first time he had been forced into serving Galbatorix. Changing his true name was one thing – but he could not change the love he felt for Ashen.

Galbatorix handed him Zar'roc, which had been passed to him by Zander when they had first arrived. Murtagh solemnly examined the sword, knowing that with it, he would be asked to take the lives of his old friends. Tristan and Eragon were right about him after all.

"You're a good person, Murtagh!" Ashen cried desperately, still attempting to fight against Zander, "Don't do this."

Murtagh couldn't even look at her. "I won't let him kill you, Ashen."

* * *

The battle for Uru'baen was due to begin – yet there was one Rider still missing. The army had been assembled and they were only waiting on one person. Everyone started to mutter amongst themselves, growing restless.

Delia planted her hands on her hips and scowled as she glanced around. Murtagh had not yet turned up, and there was no sign of Thorn either. Eragon was sitting down on an outcropping of rocks, looking increasingly worried. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. Tristan sprinted up to them with concern shining deep within his blue eyes.

"Ashen's missing."

Eragon's lips twisted into a bitter smile as he knew what must have happened. His vows to Galbatorix still remained – and his older half-brother had returned to serve the tyrant king, probably dragging Ashen with him to make Tristan falter in his attempts to attack. Fafnir nudged his Rider with his nose.

_Don't fret, young one. It may not be as bad as you think._

Tristan whirled around to face the dragon, eyes blazing. _Well then where is he, Fafnir? If he's so changed and so loyal to the Varden now, where is he and what has he done with my sister? I knew we were wrong to trust him._

Fafnir couldn't say anything that would change his Rider's mind. Instead he allowed Tristan to simmer in his anger. The young Rider gritted his teeth and kicked at the dirt with a shout of rage.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Eragon asked, glancing across at Delia. "We've come so far. We can't give up now."

This unexpected development might be their undoing, but Delia knew that Eragon was right. If Murtagh had returned to Galbatorix, then the king would know they were waiting to strike Uru'baen. They couldn't back down now. It was three Riders against two. Could they survive Galbatorix _and _Murtagh?

"We do what we must." Delia's tone was grim. "We fight, because we have to."

The distant roar of a dragon made them all whip around. From the blackness that made up Uru'baen rose a dragon, its scales glinting red as blood. Below…below marched an army of massive proportions, spilling out from the gates of Uru'baen and across the plain towards the Varden and the elves.

_We may not survive this,_ Aziza admitted to her Rider.

* * *

Murtagh felt like he was breaking apart inside and he knew that Thorn felt the same. He didn't want to kill his friends…but he'd already lost so much. He was not going to let Ashen die because of him. He swore that he'd serve Galbatorix…he had to find a way out. A way to let his friends live and save Ashen at the same time.

"Traitor! To think we trusted you!"

It was Delia, her violet eyes burning with fury as Aziza streaked across the sky towards Murtagh and Thorn. She wasn't alone – Saphira and Fafnir came with her. If anything, Tristan and Eragon looked even madder than the elf Rider. Murtagh felt sick to his stomach.

"You don't understand!" he shouted across to them, gritting his teeth. "You never _tried _to understand. I don't want to hurt you."

"Liar," spat Tristan. Murtagh took one look at the young man's face and didn't think he'd ever someone who wanted to kill him more. "What have you done with my sister, you bastard?"

"She is why I'm here," Murtagh retorted, "Zander took her and Galbatorix threatened me. Don't you understand? He's going to kill her if I don't do this!"

The other Riders looked at him, stunned. Tristan's teeth were bared and he seemed to think Murtagh was lying, but Eragon and Delia…somehow, they knew he was telling the truth. Perhaps it was because of the desperation that shone from his eyes.

"I've had a miserable life," Murtagh admitted, determined to make them understand his position, "All I've ever known is hate. Then I found Ashen and I found love. Aside from Thorn, she's the only good thing I have in my life. Why can't you see that? Wouldn't you do the same for someone you love?"

Tristan almost automatically glanced across at Delia, who seemed not to notice. Murtagh waited for them to see, to realize that this was all he could take. He didn't want to harm anyone – apart from Galbatorix and Zander, of course.

"You could help me." Murtagh turned to look at Delia. "You're powerful. Surely you could break the bonds that Galbatorix has used to hold me?"

Delia shook her head, her expression now one of deepest sympathy.

"I'm sorry, Murtagh. The only one who can break those bonds is you."

He shook his head slowly. "I can't do that…and I'm sorry. But I'm not going to lose Ashen. I'm sick of losing."

* * *

The whispers had circulated through the Varden that the Shade Mordecai wished to speak with their leader. Nasuada, terrified though she was at confronting a Shade, was determined not to let her fear show – so she agreed to speak with Mordecai. As he approached the Varden, many of the soldiers gasped and shrank back.

"Lady Nasuada." The Shade inclined his head in a formal manner. "I'm here to offer you one last chance. Surrender to Galbatorix, and perhaps he will be merciful. Otherwise, the Black Rider himself will appear in battle and you will all be doomed."

Nasuada's heart was thumping a fast tempo in her chest, but she lifted her chin and met the Shade's crimson eyes. He looked young, hardly older than her…but he was probably many years older. She only hoped that Eragon could prove himself as a Shadeslayer a third time.

"I refuse to meet these conditions. I would rather die than surrender to your tyrant king. I fight for a free land, a free Alagaesia, and nothing Galbatorix could offer me will make a difference. I will still fight today."

Mordecai laughed delightedly, his red eyes blazing. "Then you will die. Every last one of you."


	22. You Must Realise, You Are Doomed

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: You Must Realise, You Are Doomed**

**A/N: We're getting very close to the end, guys! Some revelations in this one. I also wanted to say a huge thanks to EVERYONE who has reviewed, but especially to Earth Kid Tree Hugger, my amazing beta who has edited a lot of this and constantly reminds me what I've forgotten to check, and Rogue Elf Princess and AnnabethAndPercyAre4Ever, who made it their mission to review every chapter of this story. Well done, guys!**

* * *

"_Sanctus Espiritus, redeem us from our solemn hour_

_Sanctus Espiritus, insanity is all around us_

_Sanctus Espiritus, is this what we deserve_

_Can we break free from chains of never-ending agony?"_

_- Our Solemn Hour, Within Temptation_

* * *

Ashen was stuck here again in the dungeons, and she was _helpless._ She felt disgusted at herself, at Zander, at everyone except Murtagh – who she pitied so much, so much that she might cry. Her wrists were suspended above her head in chains again. How she was tired of being a pawn in Galbatorix's game, a hostage to earn Murtagh and possibly Tristan's allegiance.

Zander watched her with those cold, cruel eyes of his as he leaned against the wall with his arms folded. She knew that he was bored and frustrated about not being able to go into battle…yet he had made no attempt to defy Galbatorix and try anyway. There was something about him, something that Ashen couldn't quite place…

"Are you afraid, little girl?"

Ashen seethed with rage at being referred to as a little girl. She was nearly seventeen. She was a woman now, not a child to be patronized. She gritted her teeth and shook her head fervently, glaring at Zander.

"Not of _you_," she spat at him.

Zander unfolded his arms and started to advance on Ashen. He raised his eyebrows and observed her with a mocking smile about his lips.

"Really? Because you should be. You don't know what I can do. You don't know who I am."

Ashen laughed mirthlessly, laughed right in his face despite the terror that surged through her veins. Her sensible side was screaming at her not to defy Zander, to just keep her mouth shut…but for some reason, she just couldn't do that.

"You're Galbatorix's pet magician." She leaned forward and spat at his feet. "That's all you'll ever be."

Zander laughed and smacked her across the face. Her cheek stung and her head spun from the blow, but she didn't make a sound.

"You stupid, stupid girl." He sneered at her. "Did you really think a mere magician could be so important? I'm not Galbatorix's pet magician. I'm his _son_."

Ashen felt as though someone had thrown her from the battlements. She could see how that was true – the cruelty that Zander shared with Galbatorix – yet how could it _possibly _be real? Zander smiled at the apprehension in her eyes.

"Good. Now you're afraid. You should be." He paced towards her. "Now you know how I found you. How I knew where your little Varden camp was. Galbatorix might have power because he is a Rider…but I don't need a dragon to make me powerful."

Ashen just shook her head slowly, pressing her back against the wall and wishing it would just swallow her whole so she could escape this man. "You're mad."

Zander just smirked as he moved closer to Ashen – too close for comfort. His breath was hot on her neck as she turned to face. He laughed and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. She expected to see insanity in his green eyes…but it was the nothingness there that terrified her.

"I _hate _Murtagh." He hissed. "He doesn't even _deserve _Galbatorix's time of day. Yet that _Rider_ is the one who gets to do everything, while I have to sit and wait for my chance…"

Ashen struggled, her chains clinking, as Zander shifted his grip to her throat, his hand tightening so that she found it hard to breathe.

"Do you know how long I've waited for the chance to hurt Murtagh?" Zander half-laughed, although there was no mirth in his voice. "Oh, I've hurt him physically…but that's not the sort of pain that fazes him. It's the _psychological _pain that really gets to him. Now I have the one thing I can use to break him…you."

Zander gripped Ashen's hair and pulled her head back, pressing a knife to her exposed throat. Ashen winced as the cold steel kissed her bare skin and she just wanted to fight, to scream, but she couldn't.

"Let's see how angry we can make your precious Rider." His voice was dangerously quiet and the moment he removed the knife, just for the briefest second, Ashen threw her head forward and head-butted him in the face. Zander staggered backwards, stunned, and Ashen desperately struggled to free her hands from the chains that bound her.

"You little bitch," Zander spat, his eyes flashing. "I'm going to enjoy making you scream – and not just because of Murtagh's reaction…"

He charged at her, but Ashen drew up her legs and kicked him in the stomach. He slammed so hard into the opposite wall that his head cracked against the stone and he slumped to the ground.

Ashen made a split-second decision about what she needed to do. It would hurt like hell, but she had to if she wanted to escape. Closing her eyes and gritting her teeth, she twisted her wrist around. There was a SNAP like a stick cracking as it broke and she cried out in pain, waiting a few moments before she could bear to do the same to the other wrist. She managed to pull her broken wrists free of the chains and looked down at Zander, who was still unconscious.

"_Waise heill_," she whispered, her head spinning with the effort it took to heal both wrists. She staggered across and yanked the key from Zander's belt and wondered how she was going to get out of Uru'baen alive.

* * *

The huge black dragon that flew out from Uru'baen brought terror and dread to the hearts of the Varden. Murtagh was one thing – but Galbatorix was another entirely. For just a moment, everything froze and the Varden knew that their doom may be upon them. Once they saw Galbatorix and Shruikan, the three Riders of the Varden split up.

Aziza roared her challenge and Delia tilted her head to the side with a grim smile, her violet eyes horribly empty as she drew Evarinya from its sheath and raising the sword above her head, screaming a battle cry. Aziza launched herself towards Shruikan with a low growl.

Eragon and Saphira did not move. Their attention was focused solely on Murtagh and Thorn, who remained motionless and just watched them.

_We have to kill him,_ Eragon told Saphira, although he felt he was only trying to convince himself, _We must._

Tristan and Fafnir wheeled around and retreated back towards where the Varden had clashed with the Imperial soldiers. Fafnir bellowed and Arya looked up with wonder from where she was fighting as green flames emitted from his mouth, lighting up the sky in their emerald brilliance.

"Eragon." Murtagh's voice was hoarse. "I have to kill you. It's the only way to set her free."

They both knew who Murtagh was talking about, but Eragon shook his head fervently. He loved Ashen like a sister – but there just had to be another way, without anyone having to give up their lives.

"If you want me, Murtagh," his voice was oddly hollow and it didn't sound like his own. "Come and get me."

Saphira whipped around and rocketed downwards, Thorn pulling into close pursuit. Saphira only narrowly managed to dodge as scarlet flames streaked across the sky towards her, and Eragon jolted forward in his saddle.

_They're too powerful, Eragon! We can't keep this up._

_I know. Set me down on the ground; perhaps I'll stand more of a chance then. _Eragon suggested grimly.

Saphira baulked _It will be your undoing. No, Eragon, I won't!_

_You have to!_

Growling her displeasure, Saphira landed heavily. She had purposely veered away from the main battle so that Eragon could confront Murtagh alone. Thorn arrived and Murtagh leapt from his back, gripping Zar'roc tight as he crossed towards where Eragon stood waiting.

"What do you think you're going to achieve?" Murtagh demanded. "I'll kill you as surely on the ground as I would in the air."

Both of them had been boosted by the strength of the Eldunari, as had Delia and Tristan. It might be enough to defeat Galbatorix…but it could also lead to one of them killing the other. Eragon held up Brisingr, letting the blue blade burn with flames.

"You can try."

Zar'roc and Brisingr clashed with deadly force and Eragon was forced to acknowledge with chagrin that Murtagh was still much stronger than he was. It took every fibre of his being to keep Brisingr in his hands and defend himself. Blow after blow, Murtagh kept battering him down, despite the defenses he'd put on himself prior to the battle.

_Eragon, watch out!_

Eragon didn't need Saphira's warning to know that he was out-classed. He would have had as much chance against the Shade Mordecai as he did with Murtagh. Eragon lost track of the blows they struck, but it ended with Murtagh sweeping his foot in an arc and knocking Eragon's feet out from underneath him.

Murtagh pressed the tip of Zar'roc to Eragon's collarbone – but there was no triumph in his eyes. Instead, his eyes were haunted and scared. Eragon could tell in that moment that Murtagh really didn't want to do this, could tell that he had no choice. He wet his lips and attempted to persuade his older half-brother.

"Murtagh…"

"Please don't say anything." Murtagh's voice was hoarse. "Don't make this any harder than it already is, Eragon."

* * *

There was murder in Delia's heart as she and Aziza streaked towards Galbatorix and Shruikan. This was the man who had left her the last elf, the last _female _Rider. He had killed all of the others and for this, she despised him. She would kill him even if it meant sacrificing herself…but what about Aziza?

_Are you ready for this, Aziza?_

_Oh, I have always been ready._

Galbatorix laughed maniacally as Aziza and Delia confronted him. To Delia, this just confirmed how much of a madman he really was. He stared at her with contempt in those eyes as black and lifeless as coal.

"So you have been hiding from me all these years, Rider."

Delia knew as she only looked around sixteen in human years, he would know that she couldn't have been there at the Fall. She must have come afterwards, but she had been living in hiding…he must know that Oromis had trained her, because who else could have?

"Do you pride yourself on being a coward?" he asked of her, as Delia bared her teeth in fury. "Are you pleased that you allowed your mentor to die for you instead of revealing your identity? Oh, how the Rider dynasty has fallen. Three teenage boys and a half-wild elf girl."

He laughed again as Delia observed him with hate-filled violet eyes and her teeth bared in a savage snarl.

"Say that again once I have torn out your heart, tyrant," she sneered at him.

Evarinya screamed down towards Galbatorix and he raised his own black blade to block the blow. The force of it jarred Delia's arms and she was shocked. As an elf, she should be strong…stronger than this. Galbatorix seemed to sense her shock, because he smiled coldly.

"More powerful than you thought, aren't I, elf?"

"I will kill you yet." She hissed as she struck again, reaching over Aziza's side to almost casually swipe a long cut down Shruikan's side. The black dragon screamed in pain and Galbatorix's eyes widened with shock as Delia's lips curved into a ruthless smile. Galbatorix cursed under his breath.

"You should heal your dragon, Galbatorix," she whispered.

Galbatorix laughed mirthlessly and instead lunged at Delia. Aziza didn't manage to pull back in time and Delia gasped in pain as a line of blood started to well on her arm. She glared at Galbatorix and then stared down at Shruikan's side. He was already healed. A shiver ran down her spine. He hadn't been cursing at all…he'd healed Shruikan.

* * *

Roran watched with narrowed eyes as the Shade Mordecai hacked through the Varden troops with a sword in each hand. The Shade was laying devastation to their ranks and Roran knew he had to do something about it. He'd fought the Ra'zac. He was strong and if Eragon had killed two Shades, surely he could kill one. The thought of fighting Mordecai filled him with dread, but someone had to confront the Shade.

Roran made his decision in a split second, jumping in front of the Shade and raising his hammer. Mordecai's lips curved into a vicious smile. Something smacked into Roran's chest and the hammer dropped from his hands as he rolled backwards, over and over again, stunned.

"Don't interfere, boy," jeered Mordecai, advancing on Roran. Both swords were shining menacingly and Roran gulped and pushed himself backwards, away from the Shade. What had he been thinking? He'd been tossed aside as easily as a ragdoll! How could he have even considered fighting a Shade?

Mordecai raised one of his sword, preparing to chop down and end Roran's life – except then he lowered his arm with an angry hiss. An arrow protruded from his arm and he snapped it off, glaring upwards.

Roran looked overhead to see the mighty green dragon Fafnir. On his back, Tristan was lowering his bow. Clearly, he had been the one to shoot Mordecai. Roran didn't think he'd ever seen an archer Rider.

"I wouldn't advise trying that again." Tristan said, suddenly sounding much older than his eighteen years. He reached back for another arrow, as Mordecai carelessly tossed aside one of his swords and reached upwards. A streak of light flashed towards Tristan and his eyes widened – but then he muttered something and the light passed harmlessly through him. Roran frowned, because between he and his hammer was the Shade.

"Don't test me, little Rider," spat Mordecai, but Tristan only responded by firing another arrow. This one hit Mordecai in the collarbone and he staggered backwards a few steps. Roran took his chance and lunged past for his hammer. Tristan was more than capable of dealing with the Shade. Roran would be better off helping the other Varden soldiers.

Black light slammed into Fafnir's side and he roared in fury – but it wasn't Mordecai who had caused it. The Shade whirled around to see Zander. The blond magician's eyes were gleaming with insanity and his teeth were bared in savage triumph as Tristan keeled over the side of his saddle and plummeted from Fafnir's back.


	23. You Die, So Do I

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: You Die, So Do I**

"_I'm here without you, baby_

_But you're still on my lonely mind_

_I think about you, baby_

_And I dream about you all the time."_

_- Here Without You, 3 Doors Down_

* * *

"NO!" The scream came from Delia before even she realized it. She stared at where Tristan was falling, falling towards the ground, her violet eyes wide with horror. Fafnir quickly grabbed his Rider with a talon, but Tristan wasn't moving. Whatever magic Zander had used on him, it had rendered him motionless. Delia was struggling to breathe as she wondered if he was dead. Fafnir retreated back to the Varden with his unconscious Rider.

Galbatorix laughed at Delia's horror. "It is in times such as these when I am truly proud of my son."

His son…Zander was his son? Delia's stomach lurched. It certainly made sense. They were both cold, cruel individuals. Zander continued to push on, easily killing Varden soldiers. Mordecai had just leaned down to pick up his second sword when a tremendous bellow made him look up.

Fafnir was rising up into the air once more, an armoured figure on his back raising Sundavar above their head. At first Mordecai thought it was Tristan…but that couldn't be. The boy was injured and besides, this figure was…different. It definitely was not the Green Rider and as Fafnir bore down on the enemy, the armoured figure reached up and pulled the helmet from their head.

On the ground, Murtagh and Eragon had paused to watch – and Murtagh felt his heart lift as he saw the blonde hair streaming out behind the person on Fafnir's back. There was no mistaking who it was now. But…how had she escaped Uru'baen?

_Ashen._

There was something savage in Ashen's expression as she bore down upon the battle, hair whipping wildly in the breeze as she lifted Sundavar high. A Rider's blade…with Tristan injured, Fafnir had allowed Ashen to take her brother's place. Ashen felt murder in her heart as she searched for the one who had hurt her brother, searched for Zander.

Then her gaze fell upon the Shade Mordecai and dread filled her, threatening to overwhelm her, as she realized what she must do. Delia was duelling Galbatorix and Eragon was occupied with Murtagh. Tristan was unconscious, so it was up to her now. She couldn't communicate with Fafnir in the same way Tristan could, but she could talk to him.

"Fafnir, take me down, please. I have a score to settle."

_Not the Shade,_ Fafnir sounded worried, _Ashen, you know that your brother would never let you…_

"I don't care!" Ashen snapped, her grip tightening around Sundavar's hilt, "Tristan's the one who's injured, not me. I'm not a little girl anymore. I don't need to be a Rider to do this. I have to…for Colton."

Fafnir was quiet for a few moments. He understood the fierce love between these siblings, how they would do anything for each other. He had seen it in Tristan when Ashen had been captured and he saw it now in Ashen.

_Alright. But know that neither Tristan nor I condone this._

Ashen didn't reply. When Fafnir landed, she slipped down off his back and slashed her way through the enemy, tainting Sundavar's green blade with the red of Imperial blood. There was no mistaking Mordecai's crimson hair from where she stood. Ashen moved closer to him, knowing that he could fell her easily – but she had to try. Because if she didn't, who else would?

"Shade!"

Mordecai whirled around and smiled deviously at the slender blonde girl who marched towards him bearing her brother's sword. This young girl wasn't even a Rider. How did she possibly expect to defeat him?

"You think to avenge your brother's death?"

Ashen pressed her lips together in a firm line. "Durza has already been killed."

Mordecai's smile widened. "Oh, no. I wasn't talking about Colton."

Ashen knew that Tristan wasn't dead because Fafnir was still around. However, that wasn't to say Mordecai wasn't planning on killing him. That thought enraged Ashen. One of her brothers had already been killed by a Shade. She wouldn't have the same thing happen to Tristan.

Without thinking, she swung Sundavar viciously towards Mordecai's head. The Shade blocked the blow and the impact sent Ashen staggering backwards. Hellfire, he was so strong…but she wasn't giving up. Murtagh had told her not to fight Zander, but he had never said anything about fighting Shades. She slashed at Mordecai again and again, but it was no use. Her anger gave way to despair and she was acutely aware that the Shade was toying with her.

Mordecai swung at her and the force of the blow was so great that Ashen went wheeling backwards, crashing to the dirt. She glared up at her foe and knew the Shade did not think of her as a threat, because he did not strike her down. Instead he just watched her with a smug look about his face – a look she was determined to wipe away.

Ashen, furious and dirt-spattered, clambered to her feet with her teeth bared in savage rage. With a cry, she lunged towards Mordecai again, hammering her blade down again and again. She needed to feel that she was accomplishing _something. _The Shade wasn't just paying attention to her – at the same time, he was sending waves of red magic at the rocks where the Varden's archers had stationed themselves.

Mordecai laughed as he easily batted Sundavar down. Ashen only just managed to hold onto the sword – except before she could strike again, Mordecai had her by the throat and she was kicking uselessly at thin air about two feet above the ground.

"Pathetic," he sneered, "I could crush you with my bare hands. You are hardly worth my time."

"Do it," Ashen choked, trying in vain to loosen the Shade's hold around her throat. "If I'm just dirt under your feet…do it."

He wouldn't and Ashen knew why. If she was dead, Galbatorix couldn't manipulate Tristan and Murtagh. Taking his hesitation to her advantage, Ashen weakly stabbed at him with Sundavar. Mordecai hissed in pain as the blade slashed his shoulder and he released her.

Ashen knew that her chance was now or never. She whirled around behind the Shade while he was still agonizing over his wound – and with a war cry, she lifted Sundavar and drove it straight through his back so that the tip of the sword came out through his chest. Mordecai's eyes widened in shock as Ashen withdrew the sword and stalked around to face him with contempt on her face.

"You say I'm weak?" she hissed at him. "I'm willing to die for what I believe in. Are you, Mordecai?"

The Shade glowered at Ashen and as he reached for her, he looked so like Durza that her eyes widened in fear and she dropped Sundavar and staggered blindly backwards, caring about nothing but getting away from him. Then he howled in agony and rage and seemed to burst apart into fragments of darkness.

Ashen leaned down to pick up Sundavar and swung it in a quick circle as she glanced around her, shocked. _I have killed a Shade._

* * *

As soon as he'd seen Ashen on Fafnir's back, Murtagh lowered Zar'roc from Eragon's throat and instead held out his hand to help his younger half-brother to his feet. Eragon stared at him suspiciously for a moment or two, before he grasped Murtagh's proffered hand and was pulled up. Both Riders glanced across at Ashen, watching with awe as she wheeled around behind the Shade Mordecai and delivered the fatal stab.

"She's more powerful than I thought," Eragon muttered, glancing surreptitiously at Murtagh. "You said that Galbatorix had her prisoner. So why is she here?"

Murtagh shook his head. He honestly didn't the answer any more than Eragon did. He shielded his eyes as he looked up at where Delia and Aziza were battling Galbatorix and Shruikan, before he turned to Thorn.

_You have to tell Aziza to pull back. We need to regroup._

Eragon glanced questioningly at Murtagh. "If you are really on our side…now that Ashen's free, this means you will fight with us."

A grim smile crossed Murtagh's lips. "Aye. To the death."

Someone was rushing towards them, sheathing their bloody sword. Eragon recognized the raven-black hair of the elf Arya. Her eyes were wide as she glanced up towards where Fafnir was hovering almost uncertainly.

"Tristan must be injured." Her gaze turned almost accusingly on Murtagh. "So you are indefinitely on our side, Murtagh Morzansson? We need to be certain. There is much at stake here."

"I am." Murtagh inclined his head.

Arya nodded slowly. "That is good. There is more hope. But I can no longer attend to matters on the battlefield. I fear that Tristan's wounds may be severe and I must assist the healers. No matter the cost to me, the Riders must fight Galbatorix."

Eragon observed her carefully for a few moments, looking as though he was holding something back.

"Be careful."

Arya stepped forward and opened her mouth as if to say something, then her green eyes flashed with something almost fierce and she kissed Eragon lightly on the lips, before turning and running back through the midst of the battle. Eragon looked rather dazed, as though someone had clubbed him over the head, and he touched his lips disbelievingly.

"She…she kissed me."

Murtagh chuckled at the look of awe on Eragon's face, but there was no time to tease him about it – Delia and Aziza landed nearby and the elf Rider dismounted her dragon and stalked over to where Eragon and Murtagh were standing.

"This had better be worth my while," she snapped at the pair of them, jabbing a finger at Murtagh, "If you even _think _about turning on us, I will slay you. Is that understood, Red Rider?"

Murtagh had no wish to ignite the wrath of Delia and he nodded fervently.

"I have no desire to turn against you and I never have. My only enemy is Galbatorix."

Delia's eyes glimmered with approval and a vicious smile curved the corners of her lips. Eragon remembered the anguish in her cry when Tristan had fallen. She cared for him – and this was partially to do with vengeance. Not just for Tristan. For the fallen Riders. For those of her people had died.

A flash of silver-white hair caught Murtagh's attention and his eyes narrowed as they followed Zander's path. He turned his head and saw Ashen fighting an Imperial soldier, her teeth bared and Sundavar still in her possession. There was no doubting that that was where Zander was heading – and Murtagh had to stop him.

"You take care of Galbatorix," he told Delia and Eragon, his voice hard. "I'll deal with his magician."

Delia called out something, but her words were lost to Murtagh as he moved towards the battle with Zar'roc clutched tight in his hand. Riding on Thorn's back would have been quicker, but there was no clear path to Ashen that way and it would have meant passing by Imperial archers. Murtagh knew that he was going to kill Zander for what the man had done to Ashen.

* * *

Ashen was weary and there was a nasty cut on the side of her head that she refused to acknowledge – yet there was no change in the ferocity with which she wielded her brother's sword. It was only when she saw the silver-white hair of Zander that she felt dread. She had fought and killed a Shade, so surely she would be able to deal with him.

"I'm impressed," Zander said as he advanced on her, a thin, curved sword swinging almost lazily from his grasp. "You managed to escape Uru'baen."

"It wasn't hard," Ashen shot back, "You and your father both – you're so arrogant. He thought that you would be able to hold me prisoner with only a few soldiers left to spare in the palace…how wrong he was."

A nerve twitched in Zander's forehead and the disdainful smile was wiped clean from his face. Suddenly he wasn't so confident anymore. Ashen had managed to best him once and he was determined that she would not do so again.

"You think you are so clever," he sneered at her, "Just because you managed to kill a Shade. Mordecai was a fool. Pain doesn't hinder me."

"We'll see about that," Ashen replied grimly.

Zander raised his hand. "_Garjzla._"

Ashen was ready for him. She held up her own hand and quickly retaliated with; "_Skolir!_"

The light bounced off Ashen's invisible shield, but when they both released their magic Zander noticed with a smirk how she struggled to stand straight. The use of magic was taking its toll on her. Unlike him, she was just an amateur and would not last very long at all.

Zander lunged at her with his sword. She easily blocked the blow – he was not as powerful a swordsman as Mordecai, but she feared that he would use more magic and then she would be done for. As they battled on, Zander began to realize that Ashen was far more skilled with a sword than he was. Teeth bared in anger, he used his free arm to backhand her.

Ashen spat out blood and gingerly brought her hand up to touch her split lip. She glared at Zander, loathing him for playing dirty – although she could hardly expect him to fight fair, when his father had defeated Vrael by kicking him between the legs.

"Where is your Murtagh?" Zander taunted her. "Where is he when you need him the most?"

"Killing your bastard of a father," Ashen hissed, raising Sundavar and slashing at Zander again. This blow caught him off-guard and he stared down at the blood trickling from the new wound on his arm. Then he tilted his head to the side and looked at Ashen almost consideringly and she could definitely see the madness in his green eyes now.

Zander knocked Ashen's feet out from underneath her so that her vision swam and her head felt like a rock had been cracked over it. She managed to drag herself backwards and she felt around for Sundavar – which had fallen from her grasp when she'd hit the ground – but Zander kicked it out of reach.

"Now you _are _afraid," Zander laughed. "Afraid of the monsters that dwell in the darkness…the Shade Durza, me…"

Ashen just shook her head slowly. "You're insane."

Then suddenly there was something, someone inside her head. She screamed at the pain of it as the invader…Zander…forced his way into her mind, searching for her memories. It felt as though he was burning her alive. She felt back onto the ground and rolled in the dirt, pressing her hands to her temples and sobbing hysterically at the sheer agony.

_Colton at fifteen years old, teaching her how to use a sword…Colton and Tristan involved in a friendly brawl as she watched and tried not to laugh…Colton kissing her on the forehead as he left her for the last time…Colton screaming as Durza tortured him…_

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

Zander was standing over her with a cruel smile on his face as he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet, making her grimace. She tried to break free, but he just tugged her closer.

"You know, it's a shame that Murtagh isn't around to see this. If he truly loves you, Ashen, then why can't he stop me from doing _this_?"

There was a searing pain as Zander's sword pierced Ashen in the stomach. It was too crippling an agony for her to even scream. She opened her mouth and the only noise that escaped her was a hoarse gasp, before Zander gave her one last look of contempt before he threw her to the ground.

"I think I shall take Sundavar as well," Zander called to her as she lay there with a hand pressed over the wound in her stomach – so much blood, no, no, there was just too much of it, all over her, everything… "It will make a fine prize for the Empire's victory."

Then he turned and walked away, but he was only gone a few moments before Ashen was vaguely aware of someone calling her name. A dark-haired young man knelt by her side, his eyes filled with tears. _Murtagh._

"You can't die." He sounded like his heart was breaking, breaking, breaking. "Look at me. Don't you dare give up on me now. Sing to me – like you sang before, remember?"

The song from the dungeons. The song of utter hopelessness and despair. It pained her to cry, but she did so anyway, the tears tracking through the grime on her face. She could feel the life ebbing out of her. There was just so much blood. She opened her mouth and her voice was hoarse.

"Just one last dance…before we die…I'll try my…hardest…not to cry…I'll close my eyes…pretend it's real…maybe…remember…how to…feel."

Then the pain started to fade and Murtagh watched with pure horror as the light died from Ashen's eyes and she fell limp as he cradled her close, sobbing his heart out. He could take anything, anything…but not this.

"No. No. I can't lose you as well. NO!"

Murtagh threw back his head and cried out in pure agony. His whole world had shattered around him and he kissed Ashen's cold, dead lips, willing her back to life. He had lost everything…and now he had lost her.


	24. Darkness Without Mercy

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Darkness Without Mercy**

**A/N: WOW! I now have over 250 reviews! I am utterly amazed. I couldn't do it without you guys! So before I go on, a huge thanks to: Restrained Freedom, Lobo de Fuego, Moonstar2015, Mighty Lion, JenGreyRider, deathbat6661, The Last Rider, ShatterTheHeavens, talk-ape, Earth Kid Tree Hugger, ReillyScarecrowRocks, Luli Cullen, EvilBunny101, Taylor, GothGirlLeya, CuttlefishShiz, Sarana Ishtar and Pookadook, AnnabethandPercyAre4Ever and TheNightWhispers.**

* * *

"_Come, break me down_

_Bury me, bury me_

_I am finished with you."_

_- The Kill, 30 Seconds to Mars_

* * *

Murtagh felt like he was dead inside. How could Ashen have fallen, yet he was still alive? It wasn't possible. How was he supposed to live without her? He had often been derisive when people had talked about love…but now he understood. Now he thought their definition of love would pale in comparison with his.

For a few moments he just sat there with the tears pouring down his face, and he cried out in heartache, cried out for the deaths of all in this war, and for those who were left behind to experience the pain.

Overhead, Thorn reached out to his Rider, unable to land and provide physical comfort but using his mind in an attempt to soothe the young man. As Murtagh succumbed to the grief he felt,

_Murtagh…I know you loved her so much…and it pains me to see you like this…but your duty is to Alagaesia now. You know what you must do. You know what Ashen would have wanted._

Now he was shaking as he set down Ashen's body, but it was not with grief. It felt like his heart had been ripped violently from his chest, like every part of him hurt…but the pain of Ashen's death had quickly morphed into an anger so great and terrible that it made him just want to tear apart everything – starting with Zander.

_Yes. Yes, I know exactly what I must do._

_Murtagh! _Thorn sounded shocked. _Don't let your anger control you!_

With a roar of fury, Murtagh lunged to his feet. He could feel the cold metal of Zar'roc's hilt in his hand as he charged across the empty space between him and Galbatorix's son. Zander whirled around, looking shocked, only to laugh mockingly when he saw that it was Murtagh, a savage rage in his face the likes of which Alagaesia had never witnessed.

Zar'roc screamed through the air towards Zander and would have cleaved him in two had he not whirled aside at the last moment. He was still grinning in that insane way that made Murtagh want to give him the most long-lasting, torturous death imaginable.

"What's the matter, Rider?" Zander sneered at him, and Murtagh noticed that he gripped Sundavar in his hands. Murtagh felt sick to the stomach that Zander had the audacity to steal the sword of a Rider. "Are you upset that I've killed your pretty little Ashen? Such a waste, really…she could have been mine. You know, the spoils of war and all of that. It's a shame."

Murtagh shook his head vigorously, his teeth bared. He looked positively feral.

"Don't you even talk about her like that, you filthy slime. In fact, I think I could accurately call you a bastard, because no one even knows who your mother was…"

Zander nimbly ducked as Zar'roc swung towards his head and he parried the next blow with Sundavar. An insane gleam lit his eyes as he continued to grin at Murtagh in the same deranged manner.

"Oh, you're trying to hurt my feelings using insults, are you? What's next, 'scum of the earth'?"

Murtagh was enraged that Zander was taunting him. He would make the man for everything. For torturing him, for killing Ashen…

"I don't see how everyone thinks me a monster," Murtagh snarled, pushing Zar'roc towards Zander's face with all his might, "When there are people like _you _around."

Zander just continued to smile infuriatingly. Murtagh was beginning to get suspicious – he was a strong magician, an able fighter, fast and strong…he was almost certain that the young man's mother was an elf.

"Go on, then, Murtagh," Zander jeered, whirling Sundavar and taking a step back. "You are simply _devastated_ because I killed her. Well, what about if I had kept her _alive_, hmm? I could have broken every bone in her body. I could have…"

Murtagh didn't want to hear the obscene, sick things that Zander might have done had he allowed Ashen to live. He hissed like an angry animal and raised his hand, drawing upon all of his strength.

"_JIERDA_!"

The word was shouted with such force that red magic slammed Zander backwards. An expression of astonishment was briefly illuminated, before he hit the ground hard, Sundavar flying from his hands. At first Murtagh thought – foolishly hoped – that Zander was dead. He remained immobile…but only for a few moments. He started moving again and Murtagh knew he couldn't waste this chance.

"_Sitja_," he spat, before he slowly advanced on Zander with Zar'roc clenched in his hand so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

Zander was laughing maniacally, laughing even though he was coughing up blood. Then as he realized he couldn't move because of Murtagh's words, fear shone in his eyes and his defiance crumbled ever so slightly.

"You got everything I was ever entitled to!" Zander screamed, suddenly like a madman as his green eyes blazed. "That dragon egg should have been _mine_! Galbatorix always saw _you _as his second-in-command, even over his own son!"

"That's the problem with you and your father," Murtagh snarled as he raised Zar'roc so that it glinted bright red, like the blood that stained these plains. "You could never have enough. I have lost everything I ever loved or cared about. You ripped from me the one thing I had left and for that, words cannot even begin to explain how much I hate you."

Zander spat a globule of blood at Murtagh's feet. "Alright, Morzansson. Torture me into insanity, as I know you would. You want to, don't you? I can feel your blood burning to avenge her. Do it. Embrace what you really are."

Murtagh was conflicted. He started feeling sick for reasons he couldn't understand. He knew that Zander was baiting him and he knew what he would become by giving Galbatorix's son a slow, painful death. Zander wanted him to become a monster. His blood burned to torment Zander, to draw it out for as long as possible…and Murtagh was suddenly terrified, terrified that Ashen's death had turned him into a man like his father.

_Fight this,_ Thorn told him, _Murtagh, you are a better person. You don't need blood staining your hands. Avenging Ashen will do nothing._

"Do it," Zander insisted.

"I am not like my father," Murtagh told him coldly, "Because much as I might want to hurt you now, for Ashen's sake…it's not how I feel that matters. It's what I choose to do about it."

Then Zar'roc swung down and stabbed Zander through the heart. Galbatorix's son stared down in horror at the blade protruding from his chest, before a confused look came over his face as he stared back up at Murtagh.

"Hurting you won't bring her back." Murtagh's tone was flat and his eyes were empty. "By giving you an agonizing death that would only make me as bad as the rest of you – Durza, Mordecai, you, your father, my father…but you know what? I am not like _any _of you."

The roar of a dragon made Murtagh look up as Zander dropped like a stone. Eragon and Saphira were battling Galbatorix and Shruikan…and they were faring very badly indeed. Murtagh wondered where Delia and Aziza had gone.

_They are bringing Ashen's body to Tristan, _Thorn explained sorrowfully, _They shall not be long._

_I hope not, _Murtagh replied grimly, _For Alagaesia's sake._

* * *

Delia did not want to do this. She looked down upon Ashen's cold, dead face and stroked her blonde hair back. She had not known Tristan's sister very well – but it was Tristan she worried about now. He had already lost his older brother to the Empire and now he had lost his younger sister as well.

Fafnir looked up from where he was waiting anxiously outside the healers' tent. Clearly, he was distressed about his Rider's injuries…and that was just in the physical sense. What Delia was about to do would rip Tristan open from the inside out and so she felt she couldn't meet Fafnir's eyes as Aziza landed and she slid off the purple dragon's back, hoisting up Ashen's motionless body.

_No…_Fafnir sounded horrified, _No, please don't let that be Ashen._

"I'm sorry," Delia said, surprised by the hoarseness, "But Tristan needs to know."

She slipped past Fafnir and into the healer's tent with Ashen's body and lay the girl on the bed opposite Tristan. Despite the healers' attempts to keep him sitting down, Tristan's eyes widened with horror and he strained against them, trying to see what was wrong with his sister.

"Ashen!" He sounded terrified. "Delia, what's wrong with her? What's…"

"She is dead, Tristan." It was blunt and harsh. Delia's voice was thick with unshed tears. "Zander killed her."

Tristan refused to believe it. He shoved the healers away from him and staggered towards the bed on which his sister lay. Somewhere deep inside, he knew the truth. He touched Ashen's cold cheek and suddenly turned pale. He took a few stumbling steps backwards and looked like he might throw up. Delia waited for him to scream and rage…but what happened was even worse. Tristan sat back on his bed and drew his knees up to his chin, tears streaming down his cheeks as if he couldn't convince himself that it was all too real.

"They've killed Colton," he whispered, more to himself than Delia, "Now they have killed Ashen. Why not me? _It was supposed to be me!"_

Delia couldn't help but cry now, just seeing him in such a state. She moved over and sat down on the bed next to him, putting her arms around him and holding him tight. She just wanted him to cry and let the grief out…but Tristan was sealing the grief in a place deep inside him. He buried his face in Delia's long coppery hair, but no tears came. Then he drew back and looked at her with such seriousness and sadness that she just wanted to cry her heart out.

Before either of them knew what was happening, Tristan had leaned forward and pressed his lips to Delia's. She didn't fight it, but at the same time, no matter how strongly she felt about him, she didn't want it. This was not the sort of kiss that should have been their first. It was a kiss of sorrow and the grief that Tristan was too broken to express.

"Lady Rider."

Delia and Tristan broke apart as one of the elf healers came towards them, touching fingers to her lips in a sign of respect.

"There…there is a chance for the girl."

"She is dead." Tristan said in a monotone, not even looking at the elf. "How can there be a chance?"

The elf bit her lip and glanced meaningfully at Delia. "There is a place they call…the Rock of Kuthian."

"What about it?" Tristan asked almost disinterestedly.

Delia knew the legends well enough, and her purple eyes started to glimmer with hope.

"Little is known about the Rock of Kuthian, but…it is said that the Vault of Souls lies within and this is only a legend, of course, but…they say you may exchange one soul for another."

Tristan shook his head slowly, disbelieving. "I would give my soul for Ashen's, except I don't want Fafnir to die as well. Is there a way?"

Delia turned to face the elf healer and there was the spark of a conspiracy in her eyes.

"I must rejoin the battle, but…I think there may be a way. First, however, Galbatorix must be killed."

* * *

Eragon felt that he was fighting Galbatorix alone until Murtagh and Thorn joined him and Saphira – but by the burning hatred in his older half-brother's eyes and the savage snarl across his face, Eragon knew that something was terribly wrong. This was not simply Murtagh enraged. This was Murtagh on the brink of becoming something terrifying.

"Murtagh?" Eragon queried, wondering who the young man's anger was really directed at. This became obvious when Murtagh barked something and something red streaked across the sky, narrowly missing Galbatorix. The King looked utterly surprised that Murtagh was attacking him and his expression was one of fury and confusion.

"How can you defy me, boy?" he roared at Murtagh, "Your oaths prevent you!"

Murtagh sneered at him. "I said I would serve you, tyrant. I just did not say under what circumstances or for how long. Now you will pay for all the blood you have spilled on Alagaesia's soil with your own life – just as your son did."

Galbatorix looked astonished and Eragon wondered briefly who the mad king's son was and what Murtagh was talking about. The Red Rider looked ready to tear someone to pieces and Eragon wanted to know why.

"You killed Zander?" Galbatorix asked incredulously, before he reassessed the look on Murtagh's face and threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, I see. He killed your beloved, didn't he? Alright then, Murtagh – take my life. See if it will drown the pain of Ashen's death!"

The words slammed into Eragon like a battering ram and he threw Murtagh a horrified glance.

"Ashen is dead?"

Galbatorix had been waiting for the chance to strike and as Eragon turned to stare at his older half-brother with terror deep within his eyes, he raised his hand and muttered something under his breath. Lightning crackled across the sky towards Eragon and Murtagh's grey eyes widened.

"Look out!"

Eragon whipped around and threw up his hand just in time, shouting, "_Skolir_!"

The lightning glanced off him harmlessly and Murtagh took his opportunity, drawing Zar'roc and dangerously throwing himself onto Shruikan's back. Eragon watched with astonishment. It was as if Murtagh no longer cared whether he lived or died. Galbatorix pulled out his own black sword and managed to block the blow as Zar'roc screamed down towards his head.

"I made you," Galbatorix spat at Murtagh, "You would not be a Rider if it wasn't for me!"

"You made me a monster!" Murtagh retaliated, eyes flashing danger, "I worked so hard to gain the Varden's trust…and then you turned me against them!"

Galbatorix grinned. "You did that yourself."

_We must help him! _Saphira cried as Murtagh lunged at Galbatorix again and again, and although Eragon was weary and injured, he was inclined to agree with her. _Eragon, we can end this war right now. You and Murtagh can take down Galbatorix and free Alagaesia._

_But I couldn't defeat the King, _Eragon protested, _In my first battle, I could barely even hold my own against Durza._

_You have grown much since then, _Saphira reminded him, reaching out and touching him with a feeling of gentleness in his mind. _You have accomplished a lot. We both have. You are no longer that boy. Besides, you are not the only Shadeslayer. I know you are capable of this, Eragon._

_So be it, _Eragon replied grimly, grabbing Brisingr by its hilt and, steadying his nerves, throwing himself off Saphira's back so that he landed on Shruikan. The great black dragon shrieked in rage at having two extra Riders on his back, but dared not try and throw them off for fear of also throwing off his Rider.

"Idiot boy," Galbatorix jeered at Eragon as he turned to confront the younger Rider, "You have always been a weak fool…and now it will be your undoing!"

He slashed at Eragon and although Eragon managed to block the blow, he didn't count on Galbatorix's speed. The tyrant king reeled back and then lunged forward again at an alarming rate, his sword jabbing into Eragon's shoulder. The Blue Rider howled in pain.

"No!" bellowed Murtagh upon seeing the fate his younger half-brother had suffered. He watched, almost frozen in horror, as Galbatorix grinned down at Eragon. The Blue Rider was watching the crimson rivulets of blood seep through his shaking fingers as he tried in vain to stop it, knowing that healing himself would make him weak and extremely vulnerable.

Murtagh knew that he had one chance while Galbatorix was distracted…and he was not going to waste it. He thought of how this man had imprisoned him, tortured him, forced him into serving him. He thought of freeing Alagaesia. He thought of Ashen…and then Murtagh threw himself forward, plunging his sword through Galbatorix's back so that it protruded out of his chest.

Shruikan screamed in agony as he felt the pain of his Rider's death and Eragon immediately tossed himself back onto Saphira's back. Murtagh stayed a moment longer, his eyes burning as he looked upon the man that had nearly caused his destruction. A nerve twitched in the young man's face, before he too turned and threw himself back onto his dragon's back. Shruikan and Galbatorix spiralled forever downwards, hitting the ground with a definite finality.

The tyrant who had held power over Alagaesia for more than a century was finally dead, all because of the work of two teenage Riders – Selena's sons. They had ended the war, but now they needed to pick up the pieces.


	25. I Want You

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: I Want You**

**A/N: Wow, nearly 300 reviews! You guys are awesome! A HUGE thanks to: Team Weasley Forever, ReillyScarecrowRocks, ShatterTheHeavens, Restrained Freedom, Luli Cullen, Lobo de Fuego, EvilBunny101, Mighty Lion, TheNightWhispers, CuttlefishShiz, FredandGeorgeWeasley'sLil'Sis, Moonstar2015, Lottie, , talk-ape, Merial Spaise Archer, Sarana Ishtar, TheLastRider, and evie898!**

**Okay, so next chapter will be the last. I hope you guys have enjoyed this story, and that these last two chapters meet your expectations!**

* * *

"_I'm going crazy here by myself_

_I want you and no one else_

_Sending out a signal of my distress_

_I confess, I'm obsessed."_

_- Obsessed, Boa_

* * *

It did not feel like a victory. Although the Empire was defeated, there was still a lot that needed to be done. Eragon looked around him with a heavy heart. The cost of winning Alagaesia had been severe. First there were the soldiers that had died, young Nolfavrell among them. It had made Eragon feel like there was a weight in his stomach when he realized how many lives had been lost because of the battle.

Then, there were the Riders themselves. None of them had escaped unscathed, not really. Tristan was practically catatonic since the news of his sister's death. Delia stayed by his side, attempting to bring him comfort, but Eragon knew that if Murtagh's mission failed, Tristan would most likely stay that way.

Murtagh. He had been an enigma the whole time, leaving Eragon uncertain as to whose side he was truly on…but he had proven himself in the end. Then he and Thorn had left suddenly with the Eldunari, confusing Eragon. Murtagh claimed that he could still save Ashen, yet Eragon didn't know how he would accomplish this.

"All will be well." Arya placed a comforting hand on Eragon's shoulder. "You have proved yourself to be a worthy Rider, Eragon. There is still a King to be crowned – and am I right in saying that there may be more you must do?"

Eragon remembered what Angela had said. He would leave Alagaesia along with Saphira…only now he knew the reason why. Islanzadi had been talking about the elves searching for the country they had first originated from. This was a land of men now. The time of the elves was over…and Eragon knew that Arya would leave with her people. He would go with her.

"Yes. Saphira and I shall leave with the elves. There is no more for us to do here in Alagaesia. We have played our part."

Arya examined him with wide green eyes. Eragon impulsively took her face in his hands and kissed her softly on the forehead. She closed her eyes and allowed the contact and he felt his spirits soaring. There was a chance for him and Arya after all.

"What about the Riders?" Arya questioned him, "Should you not lead them? Saphira is…"

"She is not the last female dragon," Eragon said, thinking of Aziza, "She does not need to be the mother of her race. Besides, Delia would make a much more efficient leader of the Riders. She is older than me by many years and an elf besides."

Arya was silent for a few moments, considering this. She cocked her head to the side with a puzzled expression.

"So you wish to accompany the elves…to accompany me?"

Eragon nodded vehemently. "If you would allow me. I can think of no higher honour."

Arya observed Eragon almost curiously for a few moments, before she leaned across and pressed her lips to his, kissing him passionately. Eragon wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. It wasn't until they broke apart that Eragon thought of Murtagh. His poor brother had lost the girl he loved. They had all got their happy endings – all except Murtagh.

* * *

Ashen opened her eyes. That in itself was miraculous, because she shouldn't even be alive. She had closed her eyes to the battlefield, and she had never expected that she would open them again. Only now that she did, she never wanted to close them again – because right before her stood Murtagh. She reached out to him with a cry, and he swooped down upon her, showering her with kisses as she sobbed into his neck.

"I thought I'd left you," she choked as her hot tears soaked into his shirt, "I didn't want to leave you."

"It's all over," Murtagh whispered into her ear, "Galbatorix is dead. Zander is dead. We have won back Alagaesia."

Ashen didn't understand. She knew her wounds had been severe. She had been almost certain that she had died…yet here she was. Here they _both_ were. She bit her lip and drew back, holding Murtagh's face in her hands and inspecting him, those stormy grey eyes, the seriousness etched over his features.

"What happened?" she asked, releasing him, "I thought I was dead…I was sure that Zander killed me."

Murtagh swallowed hard and nodded. "He…he did. Only, I was told of a way to bring you back. Thorn and I travelled to the Vault of Souls. There it tested everything I knew. I saw horrible things. The lives I'd ended. The things I'd done in Galbatorix's service. Then I saw you. I knew I couldn't give you up…" He licked his lips. "I was offered a choice. I could release the souls of the Eldunari. I could set them free and gain you back…but in doing so, it would cost the Riders much of their power. After all, during the battle that was where we gained so much strength. But…I don't think we will need so much power with Galbatorix gone. So…I chose you. But…"

Ashen hated hearing that word, 'but'. She knew that there must be a catch to her being alive. She examined Murtagh with concern as he heaved a sigh and averted his gaze.

"But what?" she persisted, "Murtagh, what is it?"

His eyes flicked up to meet hers as he paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Your life-force is tied to mine. When I die, you die. I have the lifespan of a Rider, so I'm sorry…but I have condemned you to living for almost eternity…"

Ashen clambered off the bed and crossed over to him. Her legs were weak like jelly, but somehow she managed to walk. She took his hands in hers and planted a butterfly kiss on his lips.

"As long as I spend it with you, that doesn't matter. You saved my life, Murtagh. For that, I owe you everything."

Murtagh shook his head slowly, something fierce burning in his eyes. "No, Ashen. _You _saved _me._ You gave me hope. It was because of you that I was able to escape Galbatorix. So I suppose we are even."

* * *

"Slow down," Tristan laughed as Eragon tilted back his head and drained his goblet of mead. "Just because it's your seventeenth birthday doesn't mean it is an excuse for you to get drunk. That wouldn't impress Arya."

It had been two weeks since Galbatorix had been killed. Since then, it had been discussed who the new King of Alagaesia might be. There were several rumours, but Tristan thought he would wait until announcements were made so that he could be certain.

It would be nice to think that evil was dead – but Tristan knew that there was always dissention. There would come a time when there would be more challenges to face, but he didn't want to think about that. They had been waiting a long time and now they had finally achieved their goal…they had been waiting for evil to rest, waiting until it sleeps.

"Don't be such an old man, Tristan," Ashen grinned. She looked stunning with her blonde hair braided with flowers and she was wearing a flowing dress of sapphire blue. "It is your nineteenth birthday in little more than a month. I'm sure you'll drink all you like then!"

_Tristan? _Fafnir cut in almost tentatively. _There is something Aziza wishes you to know._

Tristan took a gulp of his own mead. _Which is?_

_She is pregnant._

Tristan's eyes widened with shock and he spat the mead out in utter astonishment. This was really an issue that Tristan didn't want to know about, yet somehow he noted the solemnity in Fafnir's tone and he knew.

_You're the father, aren't you? Well…this is fantastic…_

Fafnir sounded dryly amused. _You know, sometimes I can't tell whether you are joking or not._

_Sometimes, neither can I._

Tristan started to wonder. A baby dragon – or was it _dragons?_ How many eggs did dragons lay at a time? Who would be the Rider of Fafnir and Aziza's baby? Tristan's eyes drifted almost unconsciously to Ashen. She would make a fine Rider, yet somehow he knew that wasn't her destiny. His gaze settled upon Delia. She would almost certainly know the truth about Aziza and if she hadn't chosen to announce it yet, then Tristan knew it wasn't his place to.

Several of the dwarves were singing pub songs up on the table, to raucous laughter from many of the soldiers. A heavily pregnant Katrina stood watching with a smile, Roran's arm draped around her shoulders.

Tristan frowned as he glanced back around. Murtagh had come to offer his congratulations at his younger half-brother's birthday, but he was no longer here. For that matter, neither was Ashen. Tristan suddenly decided that what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and in fact he probably didn't _want _to know.

"More mead," he muttered to himself, practically lunging towards the drinks table.

Delia smirked as she noticed Tristan's expression. "So you have finally realized where your sister and her Rider love have gone?"

Tristan gulped down mead and slammed the goblet on the table. "I don't know _where_, no. But I know _what._ I believe that's incentive enough for me to keep drinking mead until I forget. I don't want to be tempted to go and tear his head off."

Delia laughed. Tristan loved it when she laughed. Until recently, she had hardly laughed or smiled at her. Now, with her violet eyes glittering with mirth, he saw how beautiful she was. He moved forward and their lips collided with force, a crash of iron will and fierce passion.

* * *

Ashen stumbled from Murtagh's tent in the early hours of the morning, the screams having woken her. She glanced around in alarm as a woman rushed past with towels and her tense shoulders relaxed. She had thought perhaps they were under attack, been unwilling to believe it…but now she thought she knew what was going on.

"It's Katrina, isn't it?" Ashen asked as a second woman passed her by, "She's giving birth?"

The woman nodded fervently. "Aye. It is not for the faint of heart, Lady Ashen. Lady Delia is with her delivering the child."

Ashen wasn't sure that she wanted to see what was happening, but then scolded herself. It was one of the ways of the world. She did want to see Katrina and Roran's baby, after all. So she followed the woman to the tent.

Katrina's hair was lank and her face shone with sweat. Delia knelt beside her with a small, red, squalling infant. The pure love in Katrina's eyes as she took the child in her arms made Ashen smile. Roran sat beside his wife, his hand marred with nail marks – yet his eyes glistened with tears of joy as he stared down at the tiny creature.

"You have a daughter," Delia announced with a smile tweaking at the corners of her lips, "What will you name her?"

Katrina glanced in askance at Roran, who nodded, looking totally overwhelmed by everything.

"Marian, after Roran's mother."

Delia held out her hands. "May I?"

Katrina reluctantly handed over baby Marian. Delia placed a hand gently on the child's head and started muttering a blessing in the ancient language. After a few moments, she carefully handed the baby back to her awestruck parents.

"Thank you," Roran muttered, unsure what Delia had said but grateful for the blessing all the same.

The tent flap opened and Tristan stood there with a serious look on his face as he looked at the scene, at the loving family that was Roran, Katrina and tiny Marian. He cleared his throat and they all looked up.

"Nasuada requests your presence, Roran. She says that it is urgent."

Roran looked reluctant to leave his wife and newborn child, but Katrina smiled faintly and nodded. He sighed heavily and got to his feet, following Tristan out of the tent. Ashen moved over towards Katrina, sitting beside her in Roran's place and gazing down at the tiny infant with nothing short of wonder.

* * *

"This had better be important," Roran growled as he entered Nasuada's presence, "My wife has just given birth to our child."

Nasuada smiled a little tiredly. "This is wonderful news. I would ask you all about the child, but there are more pressing matters at hand. We have managed to trace lineages of the families living in Palancar Valley in an attempt to find out who is descended from the true kings. It would appear that you, Roran Stronghammer, are to become the next king of Alagaesia."

Roran's eyes widened in shock. _Him_? He had the ability of a leader, that was true…but a king? He wasn't sure that that was what he wanted, especially when his predecessor would be a mad tyrant who had usurped the throne. Lucian, the young lord of Belatona, stepped forward.

"You would not be alone, Roran. You would have the Varden's support of course, and I would be more than willing to become your advisor."

Roran lifted his chin proudly. If this was what he was destined to be, he wouldn't question it. If he was supposed to serve Alagaesia in the manner of becoming its king, then he would do so in the best interests of the people.

"I accept. If Alagaesia would have me as its king, then I would certainly rule it."


	26. What Never Would Have Been

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: What Never Would Have Been**

**A/N: It's sad to say that this is the final chapter of Until It Sleeps. Over 300 reviews…wow. You guys have been amazing! Hope you all enjoy this last chapter.**

**So, a huge thanks to: TheLastRider, Darth Rapture, CuttlefishShiz, Pookadook, Lottie, talk-ape, ShatterTheHeavens, Luli Cullen, ReillyScarecrowRocks, Mighty Lion, EvilBunny101, FredandGeorgeWeasley'sLil'Sis, evie898, , Team Weasley Forever, Lobo de Fuego, Restrained Freedom, Sarana Ishtar and Moonstar2015.**

* * *

"_I want to reconcile the violence in your heart_

_I want to recognise your beauty's not just a mask_

_I want to exorcise the demons from your past_

_I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart."_

_- Undisclosed Desires, Muse_

* * *

Roran had completely and utterly refused to take up residence in Uru'baen, which had been restored to its proper name of Illyria. No one could blame him – who wanted to live in a dead place where a mad tyrant had ruled for over a century? Instead, Roran insisted that Carvahall should be restored. He didn't need a palace to be a king, despite the protests of the people.

The coronation took place in Surda, despite the many arguments that had taken place on the location. However, Nasuada and Orrin had put in the final word and they had felt that considering most of the Varden still remained in Surda, it would be the best place. Everyone in Alagaesia would want to see the coronation of their new king.

The coronation itself was a very regal occasion. Everyone came dressed in their finest clothes and filed into the cathedral, quietly taking their places amongst the pews. The many, many people who did not fit inside the building waited outside and the doors were left open so that all could witness this momentous occasion.

Roran looked resplendent in his fineries, a velvet cloak draped around his shoulders and pooling past his booted foot. Katrina stood beside him, clutching baby Marian. Both wore solemn expressions as they approached the front of the assembly, where Nasuada stood waiting with a heavy-looking crown in her hands. It had been found amongst Galbatorix's treasures and was recognized as the crown of the last true king.

"Kneel, Roran Stronghammer of Palancar Valley."

Katrina stood to the side, jiggling Marian nervously as Roran knelt in one fluid movement, bowing his head in a display of modesty. He had to admit that he was not very enthusiastic about becoming king. A lot of responsibility rested upon his shoulders and the people would look to him for leadership…yet he also knew there were few others who could bear this burden better than he could.

"Do you swear to protect Alagaesia and its people until your dying breath? To hold fast the oaths of the kings who came before you? To pay homage to the Riders and allow them free reign over the land?"

Roran looked up and his eyes blazed. "I do."

The crowd seemed to collectively gasp as Nasuada placed the crown upon Roran's head. There was the hint of a smile lingering about her lips as she stepped back. Everyone inside the cathedral knelt in the presence of the new king.

"Rise, King Roran of Alagaesia."

Roran stood with a sombre expression on his face. He turned to face the crowd and then the serious expression morphed into pure joy as he raised his arms enthusiastically. As one, the crowd roared its approval, standing to their feet to congratulate their new king. Katrina's face was glowing with pride as she watched her husband. All of Alagaesia would celebrate this event.

* * *

The celebrations lasted long into the night. Murtagh weaved his way through the crowd, laughing as many called to him, offering him a drink. He shook his head and politely declined the offer, for he had a task of his own to accomplish. He passed by Lucian and Brynja, surrounded by an enthusiastic group of youths, who were participating in an arm wrestle. Everyone cheered and laughed as Brynja managed to slam Lucian's arm down.

"Best of three," Lucian insisted, and Brynja grinned and grabbed his hand in hers once more.

Murtagh chuckled to himself. Next he passed a group of dwarves who had pushed together several tables as a makeshift stage, and were performing a variety of strange dances. Most of them were likely under the influence of ale. Murtagh watched with amusement as a red-bearded dwarf plummeted from the table onto the ground, to hoots of laughter from his companions.

Finally, Murtagh found who he was looking for. He stood by himself and watched the proceedings with his back pressed against a table and a mug of mead in his hand. Murtagh approached Tristan and wondered how this was going to turn out. He did not want the atmosphere to suddenly turn sour.

"It is a fine night for a celebration," Murtagh smiled as he approached Tristan, "Alagaesia is free once more."

Tristan inclined his head. "Indeed. Yet something tells me, Murtagh, that you have not come to speak with me about the celebrations."

Murtagh cleared his throat. There was no deceiving Tristan.

"Aye. It's about your sister, actually."

Tristan's eyes narrowed and he placed his mug down on the table behind him.

"Ashen? Is she pregnant?" His tone was warning and Murtagh shook his head vigorously. He didn't want Tristan to get the wrong idea.

"No! At least, not to my knowledge. However, I do not think it's proper to engage in…such behaviour. I would ask your father were he alive, or even Colton…but you are the oldest now and so I must ask you. Would you allow me to ask Ashen to marry me?"

Tristan observed Murtagh, surprised. Of course, he had known that such a question was coming eventually – there was no denying the love between Murtagh and Ashen. Tristan admitted now that Murtagh was not a bad man. Ashen was nearly seventeen and certainly old enough to make her own mind up on such matters. He did not want there to be bad blood between he and his sister, or he and Murtagh. There was no reason why Ashen and Murtagh shouldn't be wed.

"Of course," Tristan placed his hand on Murtagh's shoulder in a brotherly fashion, "Are we not brothers as Riders? Why not brothers-in-law as well? Ask her. I'm sure that she won't say no."

Murtagh inclined his head, grinning. "Thank you, Tristan. I'm happy for your blessing."

Now Murtagh sought out someone else entirely. He weaved his way back through the crowd. Things were beginning to settle down a little now. There were fewer dwarves dancing on the tables, and Brynja and Lucian had forsaken their arm wrestling and instead were kissing quietly in the corner.

Ashen was talking with Delia at one of the tables and when Murtagh approached, Delia offered him a knowing look and immediately slipped out of her chair.

"I shall speak with you later, Ashen," she said, smiling at Murtagh as he sat down in her place.

"There is something I need to ask you," Murtagh stated bluntly. He was in no mood to beat around the bush and he leaned across the table, taking Ashen's hands in his own and staring into her astonished blue eyes. "Ashen, will you marry me?"

Tears of joy welled in Ashen's eyes and her lips parted in shock. Then she clutched Murtagh's hands tightly in her own and nodded fervently.

"I will! I feel like I have been waiting forever for you to ask me."

Murtagh unclasped his hands from hers and leaned across to her, taking her face in his hands and kissing her lips almost urgently. His lips trailed down her neck and then he drew back and smiled at her.

"I feel that it's taken me forever to ask."

* * *

"I can't believe you're leaving!" Ashen choked, wrapping her arms around Eragon's neck so tight that he laughed and was forced to steady himself. "This is goodbye…forever."

Eragon, Saphira, Arya and many of the other elves had gathered at the ruined port city of Teirm to begin their journey across the vast ocean to their homeland. Ashen had known that the elves were going, but it had been a nasty shock when Eragon had revealed he and Saphira intended to accompany them.

"Don't pretend you'll miss me, not when Murtagh's around," Eragon chided, feeling the need to crack a joke because otherwise he would fall into a melancholy mood. He looked towards Saphira for support.

_It will be alright, little one. We've always known that this day was coming. It will be hard to forget your old friends, but you will make new ones._

"You have been an inspiration," Tristan stated as he clasped hands with Eragon, "Honestly. You should be proud to be a Rider. I know that Brom would be proud of you. You and Saphira both…I wish you well."

Roran had farewelled Eragon back at Surda. It had been very emotional and Ashen hadn't been sure how the two cousins were going to cope with Eragon's departure. Yet Roran was strong and he was king of Alagaesia now. He had a wife and child. They could both learn to move on.

Delia embraced Arya and muttered something to her in the ancient language. The elf Rider was fully aware that with Saphira's departure, Aziza was to be the sole mother of the dragon race.

"Goodbye, brother," Murtagh muttered, grabbing Eragon and pulling him into a fierce embrace, ruffling his hair almost affectionately. When he drew back, both young men were smiling, yet there eyes were full of the pain that came with goodbyes.

Arya turned and held out her hand and Eragon took it without the slightest hesitation. The others watched in a forlorn silence as they walked down the dock towards the ship that was waiting for them, and Saphira circled in the sky overhead.

Eragon didn't want to turn back, but he was forced to look back one last time. This was Alagaesia, the country he had grown up in and fought for. It was hard to acknowledge that he was leaving it behind. He swallowed the lump in his throat as Murtagh raised his hand in one last farewell. Ashen buried her face in her hands and Eragon couldn't tell whether she was crying or not.

_Come, little one, _Saphira's tone was gentle, _Do not dwell on the past. It won't do any good. Right now you need to focus on the future._

Murtagh put his arm around Ashen's shoulders and drew her close as she sobbed. They would all miss Eragon, Saphira and Arya. Alagaesia would not be the same without them…yet Alagaesia was already not the same. Things were changing for the better and if Eragon wished to depart, then they could only wish him a long and happy life.

* * *

Murtagh and Ashen were married two weeks later, on Ashen's seventeenth birthday. The event was cause for much celebration, and after it was over Angela came to stand by Ashen's side as she looked over the plains between Surda and Alagaesia.

"I'll go home someday," she told the herbalist, "Murtagh and I were talking about going to Palancar Valley, starting anew there."

Angela inclined her head. Ashen was a strange girl, not in her personality, but because her destiny had been and would be entwined with those of so many others. Murtagh, Tristan…this was the only the beginning of Ashen's story.

"Do you think Delia and Tristan will marry eventually?" Ashen asked, turning to face Angela, "It's not custom for the elves…"

Angela shrugged. "Who can tell? Their story is not yours. The feelings they share are not the same as the feelings you and Murtagh share. No two loves are the same. I do know that you and Murtagh are to consummate your marriage tonight." Ashen flushed and Angela could not help but smirk. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about, child. It happens with every married couple. You will be with child soon enough. The child of a Rider and his beloved."

Ashen placed a hand instinctively over her stomach. There was no baby there now…but soon there would be. Her and Murtagh's child, a child conceived of a love so strong it had broken kingdoms and changed Alagaesia forever.

Ashen glanced over her shoulder. Murtagh was heading down the slopes of the hill towards her. He would take her hand and lead her away. While everyone was dancing up there, she and Murtagh would join hands and hearts and dance in the moonlight as Angela looked back over her shoulder with a knowing smile.

"What would you call the child?" Angela asked.

A secretive smile crossed Ashen's lips as she heard Murtagh call her name. She and Angela both knew the answer to that question. Ashen's mind drifted back to two years ago, to her brave brother Colton who had died so that one day, Alagaesia could be free.


End file.
